The mile-high breakup club

With its endless queues, constant security checks and the burden of environmental guilt, the romance has been well and truly removed from air travel. On a recent flight, our correspondent STUART WALLACE saw a vivid illustration of just how much attitudes have changed and how far standards have slipped…

It had been a long haul of a wait at Gatwick for the short flight to Edinburgh. Finally boarded and settled in an aisle seat at the back of the plane, with the cabin crew going over the familiar safety instructions, my tired gaze wandered across to the couple sitting in the row in front of me. A frosty atmosphere was obvious, but their body language only told half the story.

Sat in the aisle seat, the young woman had that day’s Guardian G2 supplement in her lap. She extracted a pen from her bag, and over the cover image of author Robert Harris looking smugly content, proceeded to address a long, rambling list of complaints to her partner. Her chunky handwriting meant that every line was easily read:

“I don’t know why you’re being like this. You’re not the only one to be nervous before a flight. I am too. “I thought your mood swings were going to stop. Why can’t you be nice to me? I’ve tried so hard, but you don’t seem to care.“I’m even more nervous now about going to meet your parents. What have I done wrong?”

As we taxied to take-off, she handed this primitive form of instant messaging to her partner who, although mostly obscured from my view by his seat, clearly took a few moments to review it. The jets fired up as he turned the G2 over to write a quick note back to her. Once returned, I was able to read the brusque response he had written neatly round the edge of the crossword: “Just Fuck Off!”