We board via gate 10 but instead of the usual airbridge, we walk down a long ramp and stairs to travel on a fleet of buses to an outside stand where our 747, 'Charlie Victor' is waiting. I'm on the upper deck, in business class. This aircraft has been re-vamped as 'New Club World'. The paired 'love-seat' arrangement I've previously remarked on is retained but the seats are new and restyled and the electric recline now gives a completely flat bed when required. The table is larger and there's a new entertainment system which offers video-on-demand with 22 new release films, 25 older films and scores of other things, all controlled by a touch screen and provided with a high-quality noise-cancelling headset.
Soon after take-off, the ground is lost beneath cloud. By the time this clears, we're already over the Irish Sea. As usual, I watch, fascinated, from our vantage point six miles high as we run along the Irish coast, pass overhead Cork and finally leave land behind near Killarney. Now we settle in to the Great Circle track across the Atlantic, travelling at five hundred miles an hour.
After drinks (I stick to my customary orange juice), they serve a reasonable meal. I have Buffalo Mozzarella cheese with salad as the starter, followed by salmon fish cakes with parsley and caper sauce. The dessert is creme caramel with poached sultanas and it's excellent. The cup of tea, by contrast, is foul. I decide to watch 'The Queen' with Helen Mirren and enjoy it. The only time I get to see new releases is when I'm on an aircraft.
As I write this, we're about midway across the Atlantic in bright sun, fluffy white clouds below and blue sky above. A lot of the passengers are taking their post-prandial siesta in the comfort of our cabin but outside the air temperature is 50 degrees below zero.
Later in the flight, as we approach Newfoundland with about 1200 miles left to run, they serve a little tub of ice cream - not any ice cream but Purbeck Award Winning ice cream. In the old propeller aircraft days, most transatlantic flights would stagger into Gander, Newfoundland to refuel but now, it's just a name on the map displaying our progress. For a while, I can see the broken sheet ice as we skirt the coast, before low-level cloud obscures the view.
Soon we're landing at a rather grey JFK and disembarking. There's a queue at immigration but it doesn't take too long and the immigration officer is friendly. By this time, my luggage has arrived on the carousel and customs formalities take only moments. I decide I'm too tired to do anything but sit in a taxi and within minutes I'm on my way to the hotel in a yellow cab.
