...and Fear. I don't like flying. Its unnatural (so are antibiotics and bicycles, but they're different). Every fibre of my being cries out to be on the ground. I'm not meant to be up here, thousands of feet up in the sky, with people wheeling trolleys and drinking gin (yes, please. Make mine a big one) and serving plastic meals and going to the loo and generally being normal. Flying is not normal.
To which people always reply that it's much safer than travelling by car. This is true, but if a car goes wrong, you can stop and get out. In an aeroplane...well, you can't. That's all. And boats are fine, because I can swim (if the worst comes to the worst). And trains...well, at least they're on the ground.
I have a son who's an aerodynamicist. I asked him whether knowing what he now knows (ie how aeroplanes actually stay up) has made him more or less afraid of flying. The answer I wanted was "less". The answer I actually got was "more". This is one occasion when I wish one of my children had lied to me.
(Strangely, as I was writing this I received a text from youngest son: "Landed safely in Melbourne". Phew.)