The world looks big and beautiful from 37,000 feet. We're flying at over 500pmh
and I have a nice glass of tempranillo. Well, alright, it is plastic not glass,
but I am still totally living in the future.

The straight line from London to Stockholm passes over Denmark, which I can see
now out of the window. The North Sea is very shallow here, and I can see
waves breaking way out to sea. When they reach the shore, the colour changes
abruptly from sea blue to sand yellow, but the difference looks very fragile,
as if a gap in a thin layer of paint has revealed what's underneath. A
change in sea level sufficient to flood this part of Denmark would be quite
imperceptable from up here. The tide rushing out of the estuaries makes
swirling semi-organised patterns that reinforce the impression of an abstract
artist at work.

Now I can see a vast farm of wind turbines. They're probably each as tall as a
40-storey building. From up here I can only just tell that they are not
turning.

I wonder if anybody else on this flight is headed to Herräng. Last year it
turned out I was sitting next to her, and we didn't work it out until after
we'd landed. She had a portable Go set in her bag, which we used to play
5-in-a-row while we waited for the airport pickup. Near enough.

Then we tackled the problem of meeting up with a dozen strangers. We tried
various methods, before somebody realised that the correct technique is to play
some swing music and dance in the airport, not too far from Arrivals. This
year, with the benefit of hindsight, I have brought the music!