Leuf had been looking forward to today, for today he was going to show off; today for the first time in his life, he would be driving to market in a new tractor. It was a gleaming orange and dark grey Renault TX 145-14 Turbo, with sixteen forward and sixteen reverse gears, all with synchromesh, a maximum forward speed of thirty kilometres per hour, and an air-conditioned all-weather cab.

Today, everyone would be jealous, as he thundered, not rattled, but positively thundered, into market, at the helm of the turbo-charged Renault, towing his covered cattle wagon behind him. He hurried into the kitchen, where his wife, Yvonne, was brewing the coffee.

‘Bonjour, ma cherie!’ He kissed her on the cheek. ‘Voom, voom!’ he said, like the excited schoolboy he had once been, sixty years ago. The land he had sold to the council would be paying for a lot of things, but none would he enjoy more than his tractor.

Before sitting down to his breakfast of coffee and bread rolls, he hurried out to the large barn to look once again at his new machine. He pulled open the doors and marched in, beaming. Then he stopped in his tracks and the beam froze on his face. The tractor had gone. The trailer had gone too, but for several moments he did not notice that. He did not notice, either, that both his ladders were gone. He stood, staring in blank amazement. Who, in all the sleepy decades that Totes had passed through, had ever heard of one drop of milk, or one egg, or one chicken, let alone one whole great, spanking brand-new synchromesh-geared Renault tractor being stolen? Leuf spat on the ground. ‘Vache!’ he said, and spat again. ‘Qui?’ he said, ‘mais qui?’

If you happen to be a person who enjoys a good night’s kip, the sewage tank of an Illushyn 62 aircraft is probably not the place for you; it sure as hell wasn’t for me. I looked at my watch. It was five to seven. It was about the three hundredth time that I had looked at my watch since half past six the previous evening. Outside it would be light; people would be waking up, getting their morning papers, having hot showers and warm toast and splashing on sweet-smelling colognes and aftershaves and talcs.

Shortly after nine o’clock, I began to hear signs of activity: the electric whine of baggage-loader trucks, the rattle of a catering truck, then the thumping of footsteps, and the whole aircraft shaking – passengers were boarding.