so I thought. The plane had somehow caught fire on the runway at Manchester, the fire was quickly and efficiently dealt with by the ground staff, a reassuring scenario as the speed with which they reacted was quite excellent, and it was evident that safety really was top of the agenda. The cancellation of our flight meant that passengers were being re-booked on later flights to Amsterdam , in this situation it is common airline practice for long-haul passengers to be given priority on subsequent flights, giving them a greater chance of making their long-haul connection. Short haul passengers, which I was on this occasion, are booted to the back of the queue. The upshot being that instead of me enjoying a leisurely beer in Oslo at 16:30, I'd now be getting into Oslo at around midnight. With the action in full swing, one of the girls who lived there came out of her room to witness what must have been a shocking sight After spending a day at Manchester airport doing nothing much, I boarded the flight and made it to Oslo without incident, the customs guy even noticed that on my passport my place of birth is a Welsh name, and he gave me a cheery "nos da" -- Welsh for "good evening" -- as he waved me through. Impressive language skills for a Norwegian customs official. The unexpected pleasantry in Welsh had cheered me immensely and as I stood at the baggage carousel I lost myself in