The other week I misread the departure board at Copenhagen Airport. I thought I wanted gate A25, and almost tried to board a flight to Milan before realising the correct answer was C102.

I had to hurry the length of the terminal, cursing, and wondering why the hell the flight to Heathrow should be taking off from some distant corner that you’d think would be reserved for the propeller-job to the Faroe Islands or Ultima Thule.