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1974. My penniless mother, desperate to leave Kathmandu, was forced to sell hash for the last seat on a tiny propelled plane. “Terrified of flying, I’d smoked a bit of the stuff myself”. She only found it slightly odd then, that the plane was full of armed soldiers. They took off though the Himalayas wondering where the hell she was headed. “Everest”, replied an official. “Ooh, this is a bit good,” slurred mum, as they circled the mountain. She even managed to photograph it. Landing in India, a soldier pushed her back down in the seat. “You wait!” he ordered. She looked out of the window to see a red carpet unravelling. Just then, complete with entourage, the King of Nepal walked past her and disembarked. Why they allowed her on the plane is a mystery, but they probably just needed to ‘fill up the seats’.