Captain Ken Beere began his flying career with the Royal Air Force who taught him how to fly a jet fighter and the officially approved method of shining a pair of black square-bashing boots. Deciding that life was becoming too dangerous he bluffed his way into a career in the then unsophisticated civil aviation industry.

The RAF's gain proved to be BEA's loss, and he spent the next 32 years flying services in the highlands and islands of Scotland, then Europe, finally operating a British Airways Boeing 747 to countries of the former British Empire.

When not prostrate with jet-lag he wrote advertising copy for shaky companies, often administering the final poke which sent them toppling into bankruptcy. He renounced the pastime when companies offered to pay him good money to extol the virtues of their competitors.

He also edited a couple of aviation house magazines, one of which is now defunct and the other run by a damage limitation committee. In his editorial capacity, it is his proud boast that he never once rejected one of his own articles and often had to be restrained from sending himself a letter of congratulation.

Still a frequent flyer, he now agrees to undertake it only with a book by Bill Bryson in one hand and a large malt whisky in the other while sprawled on a passenger seat in the most expensive class he can wangle.