I WAS once described as a Monarch sardine. This wasn't as insulting as it might sound.

I was, at the time, among a group of about 200 people all in the same boat. Well, in the same jet aeroplane, actually. We had all just endured a flight lasting over 12 hours to the Far East and landed in Sri Lanka endeavouring to stand upright again, uncrease our cramped limbs, stretch our legs to the vertical again and unwind our stiff necks.

We were a sorry sight. Some were actually limping, but weren't in the least worried at that time about the weird feelings and possible medical implications, as deep vein thrombosis was still an undiscovered or, rather, unrevealed hazard of cramped aircraft journeys in those days. It was only five years ago.

In the arrivals lounge, we saw, pinned on the wall, a poem dedicated to us all. It was a jocular ditty with a serious purpose -- to indicate what an appalling journey we had all been put through in conditions so cramped that, had we been animals, a welfare organisation might have complained. It was penned on the flight by a passenger unable to sleep, move much, and to take his mind off his own personal discomfort.

The poem was entitled "The Monarch Sardines." This was getting away from it all, package style, in the 20th century. Pack 'em in cheap, and pack 'em in tight. And the passengers? Well, what the heck, they want cheap holidays. They won't mind. They just want to get on with it.

But on our holiday no-one, but no-one, looked forward to the flight back.

Interesting to see how, since then, things have changed. Once cramped passengers started dying, or being rushed to hospital with blood clots, people started to take notice of the conditions in which they were paying to undertake long plane journeys.

Panicking airlines began to issue Deep Vein Thrombosis advice to passengers about movement, exercise, what not to eat before flying and how to stretch your legs on the plane. But none of these masked the terrible truth -- passengers on package tours did have less space on aircraft than their schedule flight counterparts. They WERE packed in like sardines. And they often only had a few inches of space in which to sit almost motionless for up to six, eight, 10 or even 12 hours at a stretch.

Try eating a three-course dinner in those circumstances. It's bad enough if you're 5ft 4ins and weigh eight stones wet through. But if you're a 6ft 2ins, 16-stone bloke -- no chance!

Rather than issue leaflets about exercise, airlines would do better to provide a pre-flight course by some relative of Houdini on how to eat a meal in a box....while sitting in a box.

Luckily I've always sat next to my wife so we've always been able to juggle the elbows, slide out the plastic cutlery in safety, take mouthfuls in turns and rescue each other during inevitable attacks of cramp. But sipping scalding hot mini-cups of tea in the middle of air turbulence? No chance.

No wonder some people have decided enough is enough. One passenger has resorted to taking his holiday airline to court for inflicting a cramped eight-and-a-half hour journey on him in terribly tight conditions. He claimed there was no room to move, to eat, or to exercise his legs. The great news for us all was -- he won.

I have also flown with this same airline as recently as last November and I know what he meant. But the importance of the case for all of us came in the judge's ruling on the airline's defence.

The airline claimed they had provided the industry-recommended eating space of 28 inches per passenger. The judge, however, said this should be 34 inches. Size does make a difference.

Well, many of us will be boarding package deal holiday jets in the next few weeks. It will be interesting to see if anything's changed.