WHEN I first started flying, years ago, I recall that I was a pretty nervous passenger.

I was always relieved when the plane touched down, and I was back on solid ground. These days, I couldn't do my job as Foreign Secretary if I worried about flying, and generally I do not.

Indeed, I've rather prided myself on how little I mind when the plane hits turbulence; and I've entertained friends to the stories of how I managed to catch a glass of mango juice which itself had taken off, and about the occasion when the Prime Minister's plane was struck by lightening (a very weird experience).

However, I confess that even I had the odd twinge when one of the crew on the small jet in which I was flying to Paris on Tuesday came into the passenger compartment and said "we've a small problem: we can probably get you to Paris, but once there we won't be able to take you back".

The problem sounded a bit more than small to me - "Which is safer?" I immediately asked, "to continue to Paris or head back?" And to add to my nerves, the atmosphere in the plane was getting warmer, and in the cockpit it looked rather as if there was smoke.

I could see my fellow passengers - two senior diplomats and a detective - also looking a little green. So, I decided I'd better find out what was going on from the captain.

As it turned out, there was a problem, but not a dangerous one. The main pressurisation system had gone, and what looked like smoke was dust generated by the stand-by system.

Thankfully, we landed safely and we made our way to the French Foreign Ministry where I met my opposite numbers from France and Germany, Dominique de Villepin and Joschka Fischer, to discuss issues concerning the reform of the European Union.

For all our countries' differences over Iraq, I remain on very good personal terms with both Dominique and Joschka. As people, we all have very different personalities and attributes, but we had a very useful discussion about this vital issue.

Because of the problems with the plane we were forced to stay overnight at the residence of the British Ambassador in Paris before catching the Eurostar very early the following morning.

The Paris residence must be one of the most beautiful buildings owned by the British Government across the world. Staying there is usually a wonderful experience which is one of the privileges of being Foreign Secretary.

However, the problem with the plane was not the end of my troubles on this particular trip.

You don't expect mosquitoes in Paris in September; but I was just dozing off for what was by then a short sleep anyway (it was at about 4.30am) when "buzzzz ....." and the dive bombing of my ear started. If it had been a wasp or moth I could have killed it; but mosquitoes are too fast for me.

At first, I kept thinking it would go away. But that was impossible. So then, the rest of the night was like torture.

Itried pulling the sheet over my head, but I soon ended up feeling suffocated.

I love my job as Foreign Secretary but don't let anyone tell you that it's all glamour!