Another week, another ride on the Monaco Express, as I call the BA Friday flight from London.
But this was no ordinary day. With a dense drizzly fog clinging to the ground, it had the hushed atmosphere of a Sherlock Holmes movie. Planes were grounded, passengers stranded, the BA Lounge packed. I grabbed a coffee and asked a pretty blonde if I could share her table.
We soon struck up a conversation about what we both did for a living. “Dating Industry,” I shared. “Nanny for an Oligarch in Monaco,” she said.