The rest of us were relieved. Had she been squashed, we might have been peanutless. Needless to say, the passenger s mood darkens with each passing hour. I was unable to shake the notion that the air I was breathing had been filtered for everything but seven deadly viruses, and that we were on the radar screen of the missile-launching ships attached to the Seventh Fleet on maneuvers below. The final hour of the ordeal becomes almost manageable.
Survival seems assured and freedom imminent.
For me, it meant I was an hour away from a steaming cup of strong English coffee, a package of Frothman s Biscuits, and the morning Telegraph . The landing was bumpy, and on shaky legs we quickly cleared customs. In celebration, I rushed to get my coffee, biscuits, and Telegraph , quickly found a space at a long common table, and life seemed worth living again. I removed the wrappings from the Frothman s package, selected one, and was not disappointed. They were as delicious as I remembered.