The Landlady on the travails of travel

Nowadays, when my friends invite me round to dinner, to a party or any other event, they always prefix their invitation with ‘if you’re in the country’. I have to admit that the prefixing is not without just cause, as I’ve spent at least seven weeks of the year so far in various destinations and have flights, both long haul and short, booked way into the future.

I am such an airport regular these days, that I –quite unreasonably – get annoyed with my fellow not-so-seasoned travellers, who stutter at the check-in desk, faff with their belts, cardigans and iPhones at Airport Security and seem oblivious to the rigours of on-board etiquette. I have no time for those who haven’t a clue about hand luggage liquid-size restrictions or the fact that one isn’t allowed carving knives in the cabin. I huff, puff and grimace like a seasoned commuter at the train ticket barrier behind an unhurried pensioner on a day trip to the V&A, when someone gets in my way at the airport or on the plane.

I know that my intolerance is unjustified and quite unnecessary, but I spend so much time at the airport that I just can’t help it.

At least the advent of ‘Budget Carriers’ has meant that travellers are becoming more savvy nowadays.
One good thing about budget airlines is that, in order to get the best value for money out of your trip, you have to be super-efficient at packing and have an almost picture-perfect memory of the airline’s small print before you’ve so much as set foot in the airport. If you are remiss enough to leave one of the many boxes ticked (seat booking, untick, hold luggage, untick, meal, untick, lottery ticket, untick), you could easily end up paying double for your ‘bargain’ flight. I have no truck with ‘speedy boarding’ (meaning rapid extraction of money from your bank account) or ‘extra legroom’ (read extra money for the airline). Premium Economy is never likely to reach my wish list either.

Most airlines seeming to have no sympathy for the solo female traveller, who they’ll happily stuff in a mid-aisle, mid-row seat between a pair of sweating and obese travellers. Blissfully, on the odd occasion and possibly by means of karmic payback for all those rubbish seats, I have been upgraded to first class which, when compared to my usual is like travelling on a cloud surrounded by angels. Alas, my next few flights involve airlines that don’t even have ‘Premium Economy’.