As we near the ground, the terrain speeds up, flashing over the occasional villa with a glittering blue pool alternating with agricultural land parched dry in the baking heat. I smooth my comfortable travelling trousers as I ready to leave the plane, usually slick at this small airport, though passport control can have its own ideas.

I’ve landed in so many places that I zone out and take my time as the process of arrival unfolds. Only worry about what you can control has become my mantra over recent years, so I am rarely frustrated or annoyed when there is nothing I can do to change things. I take care that I am seldom in that situation where it really matters.

I think back to why I’m here.

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