I'm writing this blog while several thousand feet above the Irish sea returning from a work meeting in Belfast

I had to get up at the crack of dawn yesterday and head over to Blackpool international Airport. Ahh bless It's a quaint little place.  

As I waited in the departure lounge I looked across to see the minibus with wings with a manx2 logo on the side Thankfully I don't mind living dangerously so I was looking Forward to flying in this thing.

It wasn't long before I was called to board along with the 11 other passengers. I took my seat just behind the empty co-pilot seat. Although there was a partition between us and the cockpit it was narrow enough for me to see the dashboard of dials and leavers which I guessed were older than me.  The stewardess was a strict  looking blonde woman whose large frame seemed very uncomfortable in this tiny cabin she  Kneeled  on one of the front seats and asked if we could all hear her in a strong German accent. she pointed out the exits, clicked and unckicked the demo seat  belt half heatedly with a shrug saying ''see, its easy.  Any questions? No." She then turned her back on us, put on her headphones and took her place in the Co-pilot seat.

I felt a great adrenaline rush as our little vehicle rattled along the runway at top speed. As I looked out i wondered if those propellers were supposed to wobble like that. But despite all the odds & several laws of physics, we left the ground and managed to climb above Blackpool's 'Big One' thanks to a combination of antique mechanics and will power. The screen in front prevented me from seeing the captain but I'm sure he patted the dashboard in the same way i used to do when my first car managed to reach the top of a particularly steep hill.

20 mins later we touched down at our first destination, the Isle of Man. The stewardess/ co-pilot  apologised as she asked us  to wait in the departure lounge while they refuelled. i guess the little beast can't go for a full half hour without a rest and top up.

A quick wander around the Manx gift shop and we were aloud to get back on board. A small team of firemen came over and tapped on the side. The multi talented German opened her door and talked to them. She then turned to the unseen pilot and explained that a small amount of fuel had spilled and would have to slowly push back while they checked it out. "The fucking engineers" was the response we all heard. after being informed that this might not have been the most professional way to behave he leaned back to address the passengers directly. It was the first time i had got to see the pilot who appeared to be an east European schoolboy. He quickly apologised for the delay before hiding behind the screen.

30 mins later i arrived in Belfast for an afternoon of training followed by an evening of networking, followed by a morning of hangover due to too much networking.