‘Flying is not yet quite like hopping on a bus – but within 10 years it will be.’ As transatlantic flights dropped to £82, with a hotly anticipated ‘jumbo jet’ on its way and whispers about the space age possibilities a new supersonic ‘Concord’ might provide, the Observer of 26 March 1967 put its seat in the upright position to give readers a package tour of the dawn of mass aviation.

It’s strange looking back from our flygskam-riddled era. There’s excitement, with predictions of ‘two-day business jaunts to Sydney’ and ‘holidays in Kenya for thousands who flock to Spain’, but also early grumbles. ‘Luxury has gone out of air travel,’ the article complained, singling out ‘the unnecessary waiting, the inaudible announcements, the unexplained delays’ and the fact that ‘between London and Paris… it is impossible to get a cup of tea’. More serious downsides barely register: there’s a brief mention of noise and some philosophical musing about ‘whether this will make our lives any richer’.

Humorist Clement Freud devised a fantasy inflight meal to hit a brief of ‘pleasing to look at, easy to serve and time-consuming to eat’. It featured ‘Hawaiian pecan nuts, double consommé – jellied – with soft poached egg, blanquette de veau’.

A ‘Spot your Air Girl’ photo spread provided a field guide to hostess uniforms. ‘Overtiredness and tension are the biggest hazards,’ commented one of the longsuffering, impeccably attired crew, but ‘there’s not time to be bored’. There was also advice from frequent flyers, including actor and model Tania Mallet, who said she never worked for 48 hours after flying, and dressed for plane comfort: ‘You can’t relax in a hat and a girdle gives you terrible wind.’

Finally, there were answers to readers’ anxious questions: what are all those noises? Why can’t we smoke during takeoff? Why do our ears pop? And why are there no parachutes? The very 60s answer to the latter: ‘Would you like to jump out of a plane into -80C of frost in a miniskirt?’