Anyone who knows me knows the answer to the question above! I have spent the last 65 years telling anyone who asks me about going back to America or travelling to exotic places that , “I won’t fly!” Or even “I DON’T FLY!!!”

In previous posts I have explained my reason – a slightly scary flight to the UK in 1958. I believe I’ve also mentioned that I have flown again – to Italy in the 2000’s – because I was feeling particularly sorry that Julian, who loves flying, was missing out because he didn’t want to go on holiday without me. That flight went well. I spent the entire time praying to a God that I have a great deal of trouble believing in, that we should not crash (and being frightened that if I went to the loo I would somehow upset the balance of the plane and cause it to fall out of the sky!)

I spent the following week sight-seeing in Florence, Pisa and Sienna, all the while worrying about the flight back to England. When we arrived at Pisa’s airport on our last day in Italy, I thought I had been saved from the necessary flight – Pisa airport is also Pisa train station and I could always take a train! The gods were definitely against me that day. As I looked for the ticket office I saw a notice in Italian, French and English that there were no trains leaving Pisa station that day as the trains were all on strike!

I’m certain that I have written about my coming across the then future Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, who was still only a journalist and fun guy on ‘Have I Got News For You?‘. He and I crossed paths in the Duty Free shop. I seem to remember that he bought a bottle of Balsamic Vinegar but I could be completely wrong!

While Julian and I stood waiting to embark, there was a sudden loud booming – thunder! And lightning! A storm! Oh, no! But, I thought, trying to calm myself, having a famous-ish person onboard meant we wouldn’t crash – then I remembered Buddy Holly, The Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens!

As you must have gathered by now, our plane didn’t crash. We arrived back at Stansted in the middle of the night and drove back to Kent.

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The moon is a little further than Pisa. You can’t (yet?) get to the moon in a jet plane or by train or bus. There is only one way I could possibly go on a trip to the moon – by de-materialising and re-materialising – and even that would have to have been completely tested and found to be 100 percent reliable.

So, my answer to the question in the title? I would not spend a pound or 50 pence or one penny on going to the moon! Mind you, I wouldn’t put it past one of my weeping relatives sending my ashes to the moon if it didn’t cost much more than the flowers they would have bought to put on my coffin, just to get back at me!