Jonathan Self’s scuppered plans force him to reflect on how the joy of travel mixes with the delicious ambivalence of wanting to go home.
When the captain announced, a little after midnight, that our flight from Pisa to Cork, which should have taken off at 10pm, would now be leaving at 7am and that we would have to disembark, I was secretly rather pleased. I rang all the local hotels — not a room to be had — established that we’d see Ireland before we’d see a…
