I am flying at 6 500 feet in my own air space. I have just crash-landed. My head is dazed having hit the cold, icy wastes. I need to get up. I can’t. Voices in my head say ‘you must be mad’. Other voices too yell concern. They are distant, far away. I am encouraged. I lift my head. The side of my face is wet. Steamy warm vapour leaves my open mouth. My sunglasses, still in place, are crazily askew. I try to lift my heavy body upwards but gravity wins. I try again and miraculously I am vertical...