I sprawl contentedly in my first-class seat on the flight to Ireland. Ron Wood from The Rolling Stones, sat down next to me and when I told him I was afraid at take-off and touchdown he insisted on holding my hand through it all.
‘I know what women are like. My wife Jo’s exactly the same. Here’s my hand. Go on — hold it.’
I held Ron’s strong hand and looked out of the window. I could see the khaki-coloured Irish Sea dotted with boats and liners. I held my breath at a sudden flood of sentiment — Ireland. A sign as the plane landed read ‘Welcome to Belfast’. Ron gave me his home phone number and invited me to his house to meet his family when I could get there.
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