Meeting Sinterklaas on a plane.

At one time, I used to fly backwards and forwards to East Africa very regularly. Those were long flights, usually over-night, so I would try and get some sleep. The problem was that I would quite often find myself seated next to a talkative agronomist or a forester who would tell me "What Africa needs is intercropping" or a fish farmer who would say "The way to save Africa is aquaculture". The one I dreaded hearing most was "Those people need Jesus in their lives."

Pretending to be a sleep was my best defence. If they asked me "What do you do in Dar Es Salaam?" how would I answer? What would I say? "We have done extensive research and we know that the only way to stop malaria, famine, desertification, corruption and war is to make an Important Bird Area directory?"

On a short flight you can risk a chat because, in an hour, you know you will be able to walk away and never see them again, unless they are staying your hotel.

I was on a packed but short flight from Stanstead to Amsterdam, sitting in the middle of a row of three seats. Having no window to look out of, I set about reading my book.

"That looks interesting." said the middle aged American lady on my right.

"No, it's really boring. I have read the same page four times and still can't follow it. It's about carbon trading."

"Is that the sort of thing you usually read on a flight? I read trashy novels and thrillers to pass the time."

I told her that I worked in nature conservation and travelled a lot. I religiously read anything by John le Carré and Annie Proulx. When asked which was my most recent read, I told her "The Constant Gardener".

"Oh yea, I read that too. It's totally true you know."

I asked her what she meant and she replied "All that about tuberculosis and testing unapproved drugs on poor people in the Third World."

It turned out that she worked for a giant multinational pharmaceutical business in the USA.

"They just fired our Central American CEO for getting caught doing just that."

I was horrified and asked her why she would still work for a such a company.

"Believe me, it sickens me too, but they own me. They even pay for the care of my elderly parents."

At this point, the gentleman on our left joined in.

"I saw the film. It's really tense."

My new and inquisitive American friend asked him why he was going to Amsterdam and what he did for a living and he replied, "I'm Father Christmas."

Sinterklaas at De Bijenkorf department store.

Of course we all guffawed at this and a few neighbours joined in, but it turned out to be true....in a way.

He certainly had the hair, the beard and the eyebrows and they were all real. He was on his way to be photographed for the Christmas Catalogue in Amsterdam's most prestigious store.

I asked him if he was Father Christmas, St Nicholas or Sinterklaas and he looked a bit lost. He didn't really know anything about the Dutch tradition.

"I'm really an interior decorator back in London. One night, I was at this party and a bloke said to me that I had an interesting face and I should get it photographed by an agency. My girlfriend thought it would be a laugh, so she took me along and, before I knew it, I had a walk-on part in a Viking movie."

He showed us some stills from the film and then explained that his agency was paying for the whole trip and he would spend a week in Amsterdam being photographed and enjoying the sights. I told him what I knew of the Sinterklaas story; how, on December 5th, St Nicholas arrived in Holland by steamboat from Spain, accompanied by his Moorish assistants, bringing his white horse and bearing gifts and cookies.

Since then, I have often wondered how my fellow passengers got on after we parted. I also wonder if we would have ever spoken to each other at all if we met today. Since the invention of the mobile phone, the tablet and the lap-top computer, no-one seems to talk at all, except the cabin crew.