I have just spent two weeks in the USA. On my outward journey, the entertainment system was down and we got credit notes offering $150 off our next flight if, given the nonexistent leg room, we ever used that airline again.

And legs don’t get longer with advancing years. Other parts of me may have expanded, but not my legs. On the way back, I was the only person whose screen was sullenly unresponsive. And the plane was absolutely full. There were seats available in first class, but they didn’t deem an unresponsive screen sufficient justification to offer me one. So a three film flight turned into a no film flight.

They also made an announcement that a passenger was allergic to peanuts and therefore no peanuts would be offered on the flight and indeed no passengers who possessed peanuts would be allowed to eat or even open them. Now I know that a peanut allergy is a serious and life threatening affliction, but I couldn’t help thinking that I wished they treated my allergy to cheese in the same way. Not only did every meal contain the stuff, but I was surrounded by people who were tucking with gusto into what to me is a powerful emetic. I survived the nine hour flight with a dry biscuit and a banana. Probably good for me, I know.

To heap insult to injury when I arrived at my hotel in the USA, I opened my suitcase to find a note from the US Transport Security Administration perched on top of a jumble of my clothes and personal effects saying that to ‘protect me and my fellow travellers’ they had tossed my clothing in the air and emptied all over the resultant jumble sale my boxes of pills (the ones that all men over 50 seem to be taking these days – no not those!). They helpfully added that if my case had been forced open because it was locked – tough! Fortunately I hadn’t locked it.

That had never happened to me before. But it happened again on the journey home. Either red suitcases are targeted, or someone stateside didn’t like the cut of my jib!

I’m going back to the US this week. I’d put a cheery message in my case, if I thought a sense of humour was part of the armoury of the folks whose job it is to check us out.