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My parents would never throw the kids in first class for the flights; they'd be up front, and we'd be economy - we knew we were lucky just to be travelling.

I remember the first time that I flew on an airplane overseas, it was about when I was seven; it was 1969.

My father's an early aviator, and my first flight was with him at age two. Now, despite the fact that I got sick on the flight, I still enjoyed it, I believe.

They decided as part of my 75th birthday celebrations that I would be entitled to fly first class. I'll be honest, I'm not good at flying anymore. To my credit, I can stretch out on two coach seats.

When I get on a plane these days, I go first class.

I'm lucky because I do get to fly first-class now.

I started flying because I had a fear of it early on. I figured if I learned to fly, I would understand better what was happening and started taking lessons in the late 1950's, once I had made some money on tour.

I didn't get on a plane until I was 23, after I left Oxford and was teaching at Lucy Clayton Secretarial College in London.

My family went to Toronto to visit relatives when I was 13 or 14. It was the first time we had ever been abroad. This was the early Eighties, and I remember the impossible glamour of air travel - my mum spending days trying to decide what she was going to wear on the plane.

We were flying on a winged vehicle that would do reentry different than we had ever done before. So all of those were firsts. Test pilots truly love firsts.