When I was seven, I flew to Canada with my grandmother to visit my aunt and uncle. It's my very first memory of being on an aeroplane even though I'd flown a few times before. I remember how excited I was to pack my hand luggage ... a new book (Gobbolino, the Witch's Cat), a pencil case full of colouring pencils, a colouring book and a notepad. So marked is it on my memory, that I even remember that the air hostess' name was Avril (actually, I do have a weird memory for things like that ... and also what I was doing on this day last year, five years ago, and a few years further back than that ... it freaks my husband out a bit). I couldn't believe my luck when the lovely Avril invited us to have a look around the cockpit. The pilot and co-pilot signed an Air Canada postcard for me, along with my ticket stub, and I thought it was the best souvenir EVER! Those, combined with watching The Never Ending Story in an Edmonton-cinema before it had even been released in the UK made me the coolest kid in school for about two months.