Over the Alps in a plane with propellers

The two boyz were waiting for me in the new marble clad terminal at Toulouse airport last night. When the family was reunited both of them flipped over onto their backs, legs undaintily akimbo in delight . Neither would deign to move before receiving a reassuring tummy tickle. Dogs certainly know how to chose the right place to do their embarrassment routine . The three stern looking soldiers with machine guns at the security barrier burst into laughter and came over to ask what breed they were and join in the tickling - only in France ! This morning Wilf and Digby are half in and half out of the front door enjoying the morning sunshine while savaging a toy squirrel. Digby's paw is less swollen and seems to be causing him less stress . The vet has prescribed a homeopathic remedy which together with the anti-inflammatories has substantially reduced the swelling.

The journey back required a plane change in Geneva. Rather than wait 3 hours in the Stygian gloom of the terminal there was just enough time to leap into a cab and rush down to the lakeside for a glass of champagne . Geneva has never been a favourite spot - too many right angles and horrible 1970's architecture - but yesterday it was looking at its best in the bright spring sunshine. Returning to the airport there was the mother of all security queues which made the connection agonisingly fraught . Talk about cutting it fine - the doors were just about to close. Glancing out of the window there was a momentary intake of breath at the sight of a propeller hanging there. Who would have thought that in this day and age they would fly across the mountains in anything other than a powerful jet ? There again the airline went by the unlikely name of Baboo. As we lurched and shuddered our way slowly across the Alps that glass of champagne at the Beau Rivage bar proved to have been a sensible nerve calming investment.