The view from above

I moan a lot about travelling, I know. I used to love every minute of it, really couldn't get enough. But I guess it's like anything - familiarity breeds contempt.

Recently, there seems to have been a concerted effort by the airports, airlines, governments and (to use swearing mother's words) the bloody terrapins to take all of the joy, the fun and the glamour out of the travelling experience.

Today at CDG I would quite happily have lamped the third person within 20 paces who asked to see my ticket and passport. When I asked him if he was, indeed, doing the same job as his two previous colleagues he said 'no, I am more important'. How do you argue with that?

Sometimes, however, a sight from an airplane window will remind me of the reason why I fell in love with air travel, so many years ago.

Take, for example, the view of Mont Blanc on the approach to Geneva. At sunset, on a cloudy day the mountain seems to sit on top of the clouds, everything - clouds and mountain alike - turned pink by the last rays of the day. Spectacular and moving.

How about the endless red desert as the plane crosses the Red Centre of Australia, en route for Sydney or Melbourne? The sheer scale amazes.

Or the fantastic view when coming in to London City, as the plane scrapes the rooves of the Canary Wharf towers?

Anyway, I'm throwing this open for you to tell me about your favourite views from airplane windows. I'd love to hear about the view that brought a lump to your throat, the one that says 'home', the one that makes you smile to yourself.

For me, the absolute favourite has to be the sight of my front door, clearly visible on a westerly approach to Lyon....