In a High Fidelity style moment, I am sitting with my friends, trying to compile a list of the top five records about Sweden. My natural suggestion is Sweden, by the Divine Comedy, but it is shot down with disbelief and laughter.
In order to prove that it is possible to get on an aeroplane without paying for a ticket, my friend and I undertake to fly six flights in one calendar day. It is now ten o'clock, and we are sitting on some airside steps at Glasgow Airport, staring out across a vista that looks very much like the car park from The Bill. We have completed five flights, and just need one more. Unfortunately, that will mean being in Majorca overnight with no money. Still. We walk over to the propeller-driven plane with a party of schoolchildren, and fly off into the night.
I am in a high-rise council estate in a northern town, which is probably Sheffield. Each tower block is on stilts. I walk under one of them, and down into a depression in the ground. To my surprise, there is a large marquee. I go inside it, and it turns out to be a farm shop, selling fresh produce and cakes.
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