I am not a particularly religious man, but occasionally something happens that convinces me there really is a God. I was in the Virgin Atlantic departure lounge in Las Vegas, resigned to spending the next nine-and-a-half hours sitting in Economy with my family, when an announcement came over the tannoy: ‘Would Toby Young please come to the front desk.’ I’d been upgraded. I would be seated in Upper Class while Caroline and the four children would be in steerage.
‘You are joking?’ said Caroline when I told her the news.
‘What? No, it’s true.’
‘In that case, I’ll take it and you can sit in Economy with the children.’
I laughed uproariously at this, but it became clear from the look on her face that she wasn’t joking.
‘I’ll ask. But it may not be possible.’
I stayed with Caroline before take-off, helping to get the children into their seats — those that had them, anyway.
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