We all have different attitudes to what counts as an acceptable amount of time to leave when you’re setting off for the airport, railway station, car park or port.
It’s one of those hazards of coupledom – on a par with having different internal thermostats and being unable to agree on the volume for the television.
But if, like me, you travel with somebody who always needs to leave ridiculously early, you will learn that however early you set off, it is never early enough.
Because crise de gare, as my boyfriend calls his condition, is not really about how many hours in advance you leave, but some weird mental wiring that causes him to fret about being late even if we’re sitting in an almost empty Gatwick Airport.
It’s an unshakable conviction that something will happen at some stage to foil our plans. The length of the security queue, the chaotic line to nab a sandwich at Pret, the slow movement of passport control and the check-in desk. Every other passenger is seen as a potential hazard to him making the flight.
