Cursing my bad judgment in having had a milkshake for lunch, I confessed in a master of understatement to feeling a little queasy. With a pilot's innate good sense of timing in an emergency, he advised me to throw up down the inside of my shirt - thus saving the cockpit from a disgusting mess.
It had a salutary effect of the mind conquering the body. The dreadful feeling quickly subsided and I enjoyed the rest of the 16-minute flight soaring above the Mount and the port, gradually losing elevation to land in strong crosswinds at the club's airstrip behind Bunnings Warehouse.
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