I got a message from an old friend this morning. We’ve known each other for nearly twenty years, but only manage to catch up every few years. We met in his home town of Dinan, a little village in Brittany in the west of France. I was there teaching English and met three fabulous young pilots – Christophe, Maël and Bertrand – in a bar one night. We spent many an evening together drinking beers at Le Saut de la Puce, helped along by the fact that none of us were really working. We flipped in and out of French and English as the mood struck, and I still have a remarkably well-developed vocabulary of aviation terms in French. Despite only crossing paths a couple of times a decade, these boys are some of my favourite people in the world. Christophe’s message this morning prompted me to fish out my photo album – it was pre-digital so there aren’t many photos – but each one opens the door to hundreds of tiny stories. These ones were taken late one night at a my spartan apartment, and I seem to recall there was some whisky involved.