A pleasant flight (surely not!)
23-Sep-08 - back down the M1 to catch a flight to Bordeaux. Yes, I was driving, which I don't usually do on long journeys, but I'm creaking in so many joints now that I feel like the tin man out of THE WIZARD OF OZ, and I couldn't face lugging a heavy case across several railway station platforms and central London. It worked quite well. I listened to six episodes of ROUND THE HORNE on the journey, which I had always regarded as the absolute epitome of radio comedy (it finished in 1969) before telly really took over (with Monty Python the same year). Sadly, listening to so much of it back-to-back, it has started to seem a bit dated. Too many calculatedly-funny names (Goosecreature, Lipharvest, Larksley-Fortinbras) and Rambling Sid with his cordwanglers, gander-bag and nadgers... Even Julian and his friend Sandy somehow don't raise the laughs they used to when I vadered their jolly old ekes. Maybe it's just me.
Anyway, I'd arranged to meet Jill at Gatwick, and she picked up the car and took it home while I headed off into the wilds of the North Terminal. Throwing caution to the winds, I had asked for 'assistance' to get to the gate. For some reason, I also took advantage of the £59 upgrade to business class (which actually turned out to be £60 and the British Airways website and helpline were hopelessly unable to 'assist'), which meant that I went to the information desk ("go to zone D"), zone D ("go to zone E") zone E ("go to the information desk") and the information desk, where I finally met a charming young girl who managed to sort everything out in a few minutes - it's amazing what you can do face-to-face. A young chap came and wheeled me effortlessly through bag-drop, security (no queueing) and dropped me at the BA business lounge, saying that someone would come for me. After several large ones and a selection of the (excellent) wines on offer, a young woman did come for me, and I was driven on one of those 'milk float' things all the way to gate 106. Aha! I can hear you shudder. Everything from gate 101 upwards is 'over that bloody bridge' and if you've ever had to use it you'll know what I mean. In the days when I worked for the BBC, before I was brutally stabbed in the back by a pathetic excuse for a... But no hard feelings. Well, some. Quite a lot, actually, but that's a whole 'nother story. We ran a feature on this miracle of engineering which allowed the airport to extend the number of gates by building a massive bridge, big enough for a jumbo jet to pass underneath on its way to the taxiway. None of us had actually been there, of course, and when I did I was horrified to see the 45º escalators and the endless 'walkways' across the top. But on the milk float all is well. It drives into the lift, goes up, backs out, (half of the walkway was out of action for maintenance, no surprise there) goes down, backs out, and drops you right at the gate, where I met my colleagues. There's even a bar right next to gate 106 but I couldn't persuade any of them that it was their round, in spite of several tries.
I staggered down the tube to the aeroplane and settled into 2C - an extra wide seat, empty seat next to me, hot towels, a really halfway decent roast ham salad (with NO mustard) a Nobilo Sauvignon and a Georges Duboeuf Beaujolais Villages... Then a chocolate cheesecake and a large Baron Otard. Was £60 ever better spent?
We got to Bordeaux and a beefy young chap was waiting to whisk me up and over, through passport control (no queuing) and to the baggage reclaim carousels. On he whole it was one of the most pleasant flights I've ever experienced. It just shows that you can get good service, but if you don't ask, you don't get. Lift and colleagues were waiting, and we set off for Cognac.
I was reminded, of course, that were in the land of the 'Mediterranean minute' which varies from about 75 to about 90 seconds long. One informant told me that Cognac (122 km distant) was 'about 45 minutes'; another suggested 'about an hour and 20 minutes'. In fact it was 2 hours, give or take. But at least that's better than the 'South American minute' which I'd experienced in February (see archive) which starts at 120 seconds and stretches almost to infinity. And the Hotel Château l'Yeuse was splendid, of which more anon.
All material is copyright. Any comments or editorial enquiries please to john@johnradford.com
Anyway, I'd arranged to meet Jill at Gatwick, and she picked up the car and took it home while I headed off into the wilds of the North Terminal. Throwing caution to the winds, I had asked for 'assistance' to get to the gate. For some reason, I also took advantage of the £59 upgrade to business class (which actually turned out to be £60 and the British Airways website and helpline were hopelessly unable to 'assist'), which meant that I went to the information desk ("go to zone D"), zone D ("go to zone E") zone E ("go to the information desk") and the information desk, where I finally met a charming young girl who managed to sort everything out in a few minutes - it's amazing what you can do face-to-face. A young chap came and wheeled me effortlessly through bag-drop, security (no queueing) and dropped me at the BA business lounge, saying that someone would come for me. After several large ones and a selection of the (excellent) wines on offer, a young woman did come for me, and I was driven on one of those 'milk float' things all the way to gate 106. Aha! I can hear you shudder. Everything from gate 101 upwards is 'over that bloody bridge' and if you've ever had to use it you'll know what I mean. In the days when I worked for the BBC, before I was brutally stabbed in the back by a pathetic excuse for a... But no hard feelings. Well, some. Quite a lot, actually, but that's a whole 'nother story. We ran a feature on this miracle of engineering which allowed the airport to extend the number of gates by building a massive bridge, big enough for a jumbo jet to pass underneath on its way to the taxiway. None of us had actually been there, of course, and when I did I was horrified to see the 45º escalators and the endless 'walkways' across the top. But on the milk float all is well. It drives into the lift, goes up, backs out, (half of the walkway was out of action for maintenance, no surprise there) goes down, backs out, and drops you right at the gate, where I met my colleagues. There's even a bar right next to gate 106 but I couldn't persuade any of them that it was their round, in spite of several tries.
I staggered down the tube to the aeroplane and settled into 2C - an extra wide seat, empty seat next to me, hot towels, a really halfway decent roast ham salad (with NO mustard) a Nobilo Sauvignon and a Georges Duboeuf Beaujolais Villages... Then a chocolate cheesecake and a large Baron Otard. Was £60 ever better spent?
We got to Bordeaux and a beefy young chap was waiting to whisk me up and over, through passport control (no queuing) and to the baggage reclaim carousels. On he whole it was one of the most pleasant flights I've ever experienced. It just shows that you can get good service, but if you don't ask, you don't get. Lift and colleagues were waiting, and we set off for Cognac.
I was reminded, of course, that were in the land of the 'Mediterranean minute' which varies from about 75 to about 90 seconds long. One informant told me that Cognac (122 km distant) was 'about 45 minutes'; another suggested 'about an hour and 20 minutes'. In fact it was 2 hours, give or take. But at least that's better than the 'South American minute' which I'd experienced in February (see archive) which starts at 120 seconds and stretches almost to infinity. And the Hotel Château l'Yeuse was splendid, of which more anon.
All material is copyright. Any comments or editorial enquiries please to john@johnradford.com
posted by John Radford at
14:58
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