I remember, 10 or 15 years ago, travelling, for me, was still exciting and pleasurable. There was the thrill of the flight as I really love flying; the fun of having an expense account and being able to eat and drink, more or less, as I wanted; the prestige of being one of those ‘business travellers’ that you see or hear about.

Of course, as time has passed, the thrill of the flight is less, even if you do travel Business Class (which I don’t any more); the airlines have cut costs the same as everyone else; the food on board seems not so tasty as it once was; the gin and tonics have been replaced by a bottle of fairly rubbish red wine.

And the fun of staying in a hotel; the whole room to yourself; the freebies to take home with you; drinking from the mini-bar; etc. have been replaced by a sameness in almost every hotel in which you stay for business.

And, as you will know if you read the crap that I write or know me personally, I am a smoker – a die-hard smoker who, come September, has been smoking for 40 years, give or take a couple of half-hearted attempts to give up.

And whilst we are ostracised almost everywhere now, when it comes to travelling, the pain of it all is made a million times worse by the rushing to find a place to have a couple of hurried cigarettes before the next stint of two or three hours without the chance of even a whiff of cigarette smoke.

Copenhagen Airport exemplifies that change in travelling that has occurred over the last few years.

We had connecting flights which meant staying in Copenhagen Airport for over an hour on the way there and over four hours on the way back.

The first time I was transferring through Copenhagen, you could buy a beer and a sandwich and move to the area that still allowed smokers to enjoy their disgusting habit (for, yes, I know it is disgusting). Last year, these areas had been removed and, instead, there was a room, upstairs, without seating or anything to enjoy (like TV/music/magazines, etc) and which had been cleaned some 100 years before.

This time, the whole of the terminal is no smoking. To be honest, I really don’t mind ……. as long as there is somewhere I can go to have a few cigarettes whilst I am waiting. I mean, some balcony or roof-top area or something. But no, there is nowhere.

But, I’m afraid, showing how the habit has me hooked, I have to have one. To this end there is only one way to get the fix. I must leave the terminal, as if I am going to Copenhagen proper, and, once through the customs area can dash outside the terminal.

This I really don’t mind, even if, nowadays, the length of the walk, in between the shops and bars that have been strategically placed to make your exit more difficult, makes it more like a half-marathon. No, the problem is then that you have to go back through security as if you have just checked in.

On the way out, the Security Jerk at Copenhagen insisted that I should take everything out of my pocket. Now, I travel quite a bit, though much less than I used to, and I have found that, almost certainly, loose change DOES NOT set off the security walk-throughs (what the hell are they called, anyway?), in fact, I went through them about 6 times in total – one of them went off. Now how can that be?. The only difference in the hour between time 5 and time 6 was that I had drunk some beer. Nothing else was different. So, that leads me to conclude that they are, in fact, entirely random.

Also, my wallet, containing my credit cards DOES NOT set them off. And yet, the first time I went through, the Security Jerk asked if I had taken everything out of my pockets. I replied that all I had left was change and a wallet. When he said I had to take them out too, I replied that these things do not set off the alarm. His reply: Well you are in Denmark now. What a complete tosser! However, every time I went through after that I had removed everything – and STILL the last one went off. Perhaps the guy checking me just fancied me. Who knows?

And, Denmark, to paraphrase an old but good film – What have they ever done for us? Well, apart from the bacon, the beer and the pastries. Oh, yes, and that woman I met the other night.

So, back to my point, which is that, on the way back in, not only do you have to walk the miles to get back to where you were, you have to suffer the queues (and jerks) at security. And the thing is that I really don’t think that it’s that difficult to get through with something, or find a way round it, if you were some terrorist on a mission! Not being a terrorist, nor on a mission, I really wouldn’t know.

It didn’t help that I was with an Italian colleague. First they don’t drink (and it’s not that we have to get drunk, just that I prefer to drink a few beers wit someone) and secondly, as they didn’t speak English, really,and I don’t speak Italian, really, the conversation was slow and sparse. Interrupted by bouts of virtually nothing or me going for a cigarette.

Then, as we were in Economy (as opposed to Economy Premium – some new thing they have introduced) on the way back there was no free food or drink which, crap as it may be, does mean that you are doing something

No, travelling, these days, is not a pleasure. Everything (including, now, going for a cigarette) takes too long and has a load of hurdles and hoops through which you must jump. If I ever get rich I’ll be having my own private jet for certain.