Let it be said here that Air New Zealand are sexist pigs. Gold Elite though I may be, whenever I travel with a bloke - even if they are not a frequent flyer, they are automatically given my privileges. I am deemed either the (in)significant other or the P.A. Nigel was welcomed aboard by name whereas my screen was left blank - maybe just in case he fancied bringing someone else at the last minute instead. Luckily I am easily mollified with a glass of fizz, a felt bag full of lip balm and hand cream and the promise of a Peter Gordon lamb shank.
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