After a few more jolts things calmed down and the captain spoke over the tannoy. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the turbulence we have just experienced was due to the plane ascending through a storm, rest assured the plane can handle this and, in a few minutes, we will be above it at cruising altitude where you can sit back, relax and enjoy your flight to Amsterdam.’ I felt slightly reassured but still glad that I had gone to the toilet just before take-off.

About an hour into the flight, I was ensconced in the tale of a plucky, Chinese American economics lecturer who discovers that not only is her boyfriend the heir to a multi-billion-dollar, Singapore property portfolio, he is also the son of Michelle Yeoh.

The film paused as the purser made an announcement. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we would like to ask passengers that if there is a medical doctor among you, then please make yourself known to staff. We have a medical emergency on board for which we require assistance.’ That sounded ominous, I hope they get some help I thought. I settled back into the relatable tale of the struggles of a billionaire, and when I’d finished my vegetarian couscous meal, I settled back to get some sleep. We were flying through the night, so I needed some shut-eye.

About two and a half hours later I heard a spine-chilling scream from only a few rows in front of me. My eyes shot open. The galley area in front of me had been curtained off to prevent passengers entering. There were flight attendants milling around looking anxious, and a man (who looked serious enough to be a doctor) was adjusting a drip. This must be the medical emergency we’d heard about. I looked to the passenger on my right who told me that a woman had gone into premature labour shortly after the turbulence we’d experienced and that her baby had decided to make a melodramatic entrance to the world at an altitude of 35,000 feet.

My sister who was seated in an aisle seat two rows in front of me (therefore closer to the scene)  came back to me and said, ‘Her contractions are now three minutes apart.’

I know little about pregnancy but that sounded like birth was imminent. We were still about two and a half hours from Amsterdam somewhere over the Mediterranean Sea. This was a premature baby. Alarm bells started ringing in my head. Every few minutes I could hear the woman scream and I caught a quick glimpse of a flailing leg through a curtain.’

‘Ladies and gentlemen’ said the purser’s voice soothingly over the intercom. ‘Unfortunately, as there is a passenger giving birth on the plane, we will not be able to supply a full breakfast service as our crew members are assisting the doctors. Much credit to them but those flight attendants looked unruffled.

My sister came back to me once again. ‘Contractions are one minute apart. She keeps asking ‘Should I push now?’. One final blood-curdling scream and then we heard a baby crying. The passengers in the vicinity burst into applause.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ came the captain’s voice over the speaker, ‘we are going to be making an emergency landing in Barcelona El Prat Airport shortly. A passenger has given birth and we need to get mother and daughter to a hospital as soon as possible.’

This was quite thrilling – an emergency landing that didn’t involve a threat to the lives of all passengers on board sounded acceptable.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, as we will be flying directly into Barcelona and landing as close to the terminal building as we can, the plane will land with a sudden, hard brake. This is expected so it is not something that should cause any worry’ announced the purser,’ When we do land can we kindly request that you remain seated. The emergency medical staff will require unobstructed passageways to take mother and baby off the plane as quickly and safely as possible.’

In the end the landing was quite smooth. It was now 5am – forty minutes before our scheduled landing in Amsterdam. I noticed police cars outside the window and then like a chariot appeared an ambulance.

The Spanish medical team boarded the plane. Quickly and efficiently the new mother and her baby were placed on a stretcher and wheeled out, followed by her beaming husband. Everyone cheered and clapped and wished them well. Flight attendants approached a few passengers asking them to delete the videos they had recorded of her exit as a blatant invasion of the woman’s privacy.

Finally, after the airplane had been refuelled and take-off approved by Barcelona airport we took-off once again at 7.30am. ETA in Amsterdam at 9.10am. Halfway through the flight the captain announced that he has received news that mother and baby were both doing well.

Quite simply this was the most extraordinary flight of my life. And huge credit must be given to the KLM staff who handled the situation so calmly and professionally.

Our onward, rescheduled journey to Dublin was uneventful (except for the fact that KLM lost my sister’s bags at Schiphol and took another three days to get them home to her.)

A thrilling end to an amazing trip.