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- Aug 26, 2010
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“……..Ms Pugh it is 3PM and you have disturbed my afternoon nap.”
It was mid-December and I was in, a rather cold, Blighty again and had no idea what Griselda was doing bothering me.
“Mr Hancock it appears that Bestjet has gone into administration.”
Quite why Griselda thought this news was more important than my nap was beyond me.
“I have called Qatar Airways and your itinerary is still valid for January. She blurted out breathlessly.
“Qatar Airways?” I queried.
“Yes, remember Mr Hancock? You have to be in Berlin for a meeting in January and Qatar Airways was the most cost-effective option available through Bestjet online.”
I had no idea what Griselda was talking about but had a feeling that things were not quite as tiggerty boo as they should be.
“Mr Hancock are you still there?” she shouted. “Lots of people are reporting that their flights are being cancelled and I am most worried that because I booked in early December your flights will be cancelled too.”
How was this my problem I asked myself silently. I paid (very nearly) Griselda to sort all of the travel stuff out and could hardly be bothered with minor details like this. With Boris leaving the Concorde Room, and Lucilla on holiday over Christmas I had no idea who would be making my Dry Martini on New Years Day and this was causing me much angst.
“Ms Pugh, I have total confidence is your ability to resolve this.” I lied.
Fortunately the stand in staff in the CCR did a sterling job on the Martini front on New Years Day and I arrived in Melbourne Suitably hungover after polishing off the entire stock of the First Class Cabin’s Bordeaux on my British Airways flight. (I do rather like the way British airways sets out an exclusion zone around my seat – they certainly know who I am.)
With four days in Australia before setting off to Berlin I maximised my time by thoroughly enjoying India thrashing the living daylights out of Australia in the Sydney Test until the rain ruined things. It’s hardly worth heading back to Blighty for the Ashes unless a handicap system is introduced to Test cricket. Perhaps Australia should be allowed sand paper for test matches again.
“Mr Hancock” I have never understood how Griselda could make the use of my name so threatening. “Qatar continues to say your booking is valid, but I am still worried”
“Have you not sorted this out yet?” I thought but was too frightened to say.
I woke up on the day of my flight and whilst tucking into two soft boiled eggs and soldiers covered with slightly salted butter, Griselda broke what was to be some shocking news. Qatar Airways had failed miserably on the getting the aeroplane I needed to fly on off the ground and in the air to Melbourne.
“Mr Hancock it is a disaster.” Griselda comforted me. “You will be too late for your connection on Doha and will have to fly to Istanbul and then to Berlin.” There was a palpable sense of glee in her voice.
“Doha? Istanbul?” I heard myself say but was in a state of shock and needed a small glass of Coates Plymouth Gin (Navy Strength of course) to get me through this. Remarkably the gin paired rather well with the soft-boiled eggs.
I composed myself and rather helpfully, I thought, uttered “This won’t do Miss Pugh.”
Another gin went down quite well, and I wondered if I was on to something. These days there is so much emphasis on matching food with wine it seemed gin with eggs for breakfast might be a marketing chappies dream.
“Mr Hancock” Griselda was almost hysterical, “I have managed to get you on to the Sydney flight to Doha but you have to get moving soon to get up to Sydney and I can only get an economy ticket. This way you can retain your original connections…..and even better your ticket number has changed so I am totally confident the whole BestJet bankruptcy won’t impact your travel.”
“I have to fly to that dreadful airport in Sydney and in Economy, is that similar to Business Class? I was focussed on the important things, I knew just how appalling Business Class was.
I had forgotten how just how appalling Qantas Business Class was, this was a deliberate act on my part having only just flown Qantas Business Class four days earlier. I had eradicated it from my mind, but was now being reminded. That dreadful cart with food and drink, the dire wine selection, and seats that would not lie flat no matter what force was applied.
I suffered for nearly an hour and a half and was then confronted by Sydney Airport and some sort of animal transport lorry that was to take me to the International Terminal. It was really beyond my comprehension, I am often disappointed at London Heathrow Airport where a Jaguar Motor Car is used to take me between terminals, but this continues to be as low as it gets.
“Hello!” I said, with one of those fake smiles one has to produce when dealing with airline employees. “I would like to check in please.”
I was handed my boarding passes and advised that I may well receive an upgrade at the gate. What on earth was this “might” business, what on earth was Griselda doing?
“Mr Hancock” Griselda was breathless “I have checked your booking online and it appears that your seat has changed to 1K”
“1K?” I was curious now. “Was 1A not available?”
“…but you were in Business Class and you have been upgraded to First Class I think.” Griselda responded.
That Griselda only thought I’d be flying in First Class was not comforting at all, and I settled back into a glass of claret to overcome the stress.
The beep at the gate did provide comfort though and the nice lady took my boarding pass from me and gave me a new one with seat 1K on it. Whilst I could not forgive Griselda for failing to procure 1A I was, at the very least, avoiding Business Class.
I am not a fizzy white wine enthusiast but have to say the offering in Qatar First Class was not unpleasant. Now, what was the name……….similar to the Soviet medium range surface to air missile…..mmmm…..ermmmm….2K11, no that’s not it……..ah yes, Krug that’s it. My only complaint was that this wine was a bit old, 2004, you’d think Qatar would splash out on something newer.
The caviar was not bad at all, particularly when matched with an ice cold shot of vodka, and the Bordeaux that flowed perpetually was a perfect match for the rather decently cooked steak. It was all a notch up from First Class on British Airways.
The bed was a little wider than on British Airways, but I have to say there was a distinct lack of privacy.
After a brief visit to the Business Class Lounge at Doha (It would have been much longer had I not called Griselda up and passed my telephone to the lounge chappie at the first Lounge so that she could explain to him why I should be allowed into said lounge.) I boarded my flight to Berlin. I was, quite rightly in seat 1A.
Griselda had briefed me on this flight well in advance, but I had paid no attention at all so it was quite a surprise to find myself facing backwards and in a fully enclosed suite with a door. Even more surprising was the ability to play my small hand held television on the big screen in my suite.
“This is First Class isn’t it?” I asked the uniformed chappie with a small flat television.
“No Mr Hancock this is Business Class.” Came the response
He was clearly confused, these foreign types often are, so I ordered breakfast and matched it with another decent Bordeaux. British Airways could learn a little from this cabin arrangement I thought to myself as I dozed off.
The three days in Berlin passed quickly, and I soon found myself preparing for another jaunt in First Class, although this time in 3K, Griselda had failed me yet again.
The phone call came through just hours before the flight and Griselda’s voice suggested a catastrophe was afoot.
“Mr Hancock, Mr Hancock, Qatar has changed the aeroplane to a version without the QSuite.”
I had no idea what she was talking about.
“The seats on your flight will be like the Qantas seats in Business Class on their A380 Aeroplane” She continued.
This was worse than a catastrophe, I would be flying in a seat that drooped, with no privacy, and little or no storage. Griselda had moved me to a middle seat so that I didn’t have to climb over anyone. It was an horrific prospect.
There were no last-minute surprises, other than the indignity and horror of having to travel on another cattle truck to the aeroplane, and I found myself in the dreaded seat Griselda had described to me. I opted for three or four medical single malts to help me through and slept all of the way to Doha.
“Griselda” I was firm in my tone “there appears to be an error in my booking”
“How so Mr Hancock?”
“The chappies here don’t appear to have my aeroplane ready for the flight to Melbourne and are telling me that it runs on some sort of scheduled service…and I’ll have to wait for another fourteen hours.”
I heard Griselda sigh and a response soon followed. “I did tell you Mr Hancock, the connections aren’t great, I suspect it was one of the reasons for the competitive price.”
This was beyond my comprehension, what sort of business was Qatar running, surely they just couldn’t leave important passengers hanging around an airport because they had failed to get the aeroplane ready.
Griselda continued with her airline schedule explanation but I was unhappy and asked her to contact the CEO of Qatar immediately and headed off to the bar for a stiff gin. The business class lounge, once again I was not allowed into the proper lounge, was a huge barn of a lounge, filled to the brim with dreadful business class types and their offspring, although within an hour or so they all vanished. (My assumption is that Griselda had got through to someone senior at Qatar and they had at least cleared the lounge, although Griselda maintained it was a “schedule” thing again.)
I like to learn about new things and ways when I travel, actually let me put that another way I have no interest in in new things but find them forced upon me against my will. In the Qatar lounge I found a whole new process called self-service, quite remarkable. One walks up to a counter and collects food and drink rather than have a waiter take an order and bring it to one’s table. i’m not sure it will catch on, primarily because is dreadful.
After wandering around I managed to find an area with small cubicles with what I would call a chaise longue (without the single back rest) inside. I dozed on and off for the rest of the day, but the constant need to fetch my gin & tonics was a bugbear.
When Qatar finally deemed it an acceptable time to fly me home, I boarded my flight to find that I would have to fly in Business Class again. I am not sure whether it was the 14 hour wait, the self-service in the lounge, or the gin and tonics but my will had been broken and I meekly maid my way to my seat, 16K. This was the third different type of business class seat I had sat in on three Qatar flights.
The seat was adequate, relatively private and moderately comfortable. I numbed the pain by launching an assault on the Bordeaux, which was rapidly becoming my go to anaesthetic, however the inability of the stewardess to deliver my anaesthetic in a timely fashion left me wide awake to the whole horror unfolding before me, including overcooked beef.
NB Empty wine glass
Even at my club, where I consider port and cigars as a separate course, it has never taken more than three hours to serve dinner, but the staff on the Qatar flight managed to drag dinner out to a full three and a half hours, and still only deliver me four, smallish, glasses of Bordeaux.
My frustration at breakfast revolved around bacon, or to be precise the lack of it. I’m all for a cheese omelette, although Griselda struggles to make a decent one, but without bacon it is just not a proper breakfast. No amount of gesticulation could get this message through, it was as if nobody ate pork products at Qatar.
At least I now have four weeks in Australia before my regular BA First Class to Blighty begins again and normality returns….and Griselda vows never to book flights at short notice through an online Travel Agency! (Apparently I got away with it – whatever that means.)
It was mid-December and I was in, a rather cold, Blighty again and had no idea what Griselda was doing bothering me.
“Mr Hancock it appears that Bestjet has gone into administration.”
Quite why Griselda thought this news was more important than my nap was beyond me.
“I have called Qatar Airways and your itinerary is still valid for January. She blurted out breathlessly.
“Qatar Airways?” I queried.
“Yes, remember Mr Hancock? You have to be in Berlin for a meeting in January and Qatar Airways was the most cost-effective option available through Bestjet online.”
I had no idea what Griselda was talking about but had a feeling that things were not quite as tiggerty boo as they should be.
“Mr Hancock are you still there?” she shouted. “Lots of people are reporting that their flights are being cancelled and I am most worried that because I booked in early December your flights will be cancelled too.”
How was this my problem I asked myself silently. I paid (very nearly) Griselda to sort all of the travel stuff out and could hardly be bothered with minor details like this. With Boris leaving the Concorde Room, and Lucilla on holiday over Christmas I had no idea who would be making my Dry Martini on New Years Day and this was causing me much angst.
“Ms Pugh, I have total confidence is your ability to resolve this.” I lied.
Fortunately the stand in staff in the CCR did a sterling job on the Martini front on New Years Day and I arrived in Melbourne Suitably hungover after polishing off the entire stock of the First Class Cabin’s Bordeaux on my British Airways flight. (I do rather like the way British airways sets out an exclusion zone around my seat – they certainly know who I am.)
With four days in Australia before setting off to Berlin I maximised my time by thoroughly enjoying India thrashing the living daylights out of Australia in the Sydney Test until the rain ruined things. It’s hardly worth heading back to Blighty for the Ashes unless a handicap system is introduced to Test cricket. Perhaps Australia should be allowed sand paper for test matches again.
“Mr Hancock” I have never understood how Griselda could make the use of my name so threatening. “Qatar continues to say your booking is valid, but I am still worried”
“Have you not sorted this out yet?” I thought but was too frightened to say.
I woke up on the day of my flight and whilst tucking into two soft boiled eggs and soldiers covered with slightly salted butter, Griselda broke what was to be some shocking news. Qatar Airways had failed miserably on the getting the aeroplane I needed to fly on off the ground and in the air to Melbourne.
“Mr Hancock it is a disaster.” Griselda comforted me. “You will be too late for your connection on Doha and will have to fly to Istanbul and then to Berlin.” There was a palpable sense of glee in her voice.
“Doha? Istanbul?” I heard myself say but was in a state of shock and needed a small glass of Coates Plymouth Gin (Navy Strength of course) to get me through this. Remarkably the gin paired rather well with the soft-boiled eggs.
I composed myself and rather helpfully, I thought, uttered “This won’t do Miss Pugh.”
Another gin went down quite well, and I wondered if I was on to something. These days there is so much emphasis on matching food with wine it seemed gin with eggs for breakfast might be a marketing chappies dream.
“Mr Hancock” Griselda was almost hysterical, “I have managed to get you on to the Sydney flight to Doha but you have to get moving soon to get up to Sydney and I can only get an economy ticket. This way you can retain your original connections…..and even better your ticket number has changed so I am totally confident the whole BestJet bankruptcy won’t impact your travel.”
“I have to fly to that dreadful airport in Sydney and in Economy, is that similar to Business Class? I was focussed on the important things, I knew just how appalling Business Class was.
I had forgotten how just how appalling Qantas Business Class was, this was a deliberate act on my part having only just flown Qantas Business Class four days earlier. I had eradicated it from my mind, but was now being reminded. That dreadful cart with food and drink, the dire wine selection, and seats that would not lie flat no matter what force was applied.
I suffered for nearly an hour and a half and was then confronted by Sydney Airport and some sort of animal transport lorry that was to take me to the International Terminal. It was really beyond my comprehension, I am often disappointed at London Heathrow Airport where a Jaguar Motor Car is used to take me between terminals, but this continues to be as low as it gets.
“Hello!” I said, with one of those fake smiles one has to produce when dealing with airline employees. “I would like to check in please.”
I was handed my boarding passes and advised that I may well receive an upgrade at the gate. What on earth was this “might” business, what on earth was Griselda doing?
“Mr Hancock” Griselda was breathless “I have checked your booking online and it appears that your seat has changed to 1K”
“1K?” I was curious now. “Was 1A not available?”
“…but you were in Business Class and you have been upgraded to First Class I think.” Griselda responded.
That Griselda only thought I’d be flying in First Class was not comforting at all, and I settled back into a glass of claret to overcome the stress.
The beep at the gate did provide comfort though and the nice lady took my boarding pass from me and gave me a new one with seat 1K on it. Whilst I could not forgive Griselda for failing to procure 1A I was, at the very least, avoiding Business Class.
I am not a fizzy white wine enthusiast but have to say the offering in Qatar First Class was not unpleasant. Now, what was the name……….similar to the Soviet medium range surface to air missile…..mmmm…..ermmmm….2K11, no that’s not it……..ah yes, Krug that’s it. My only complaint was that this wine was a bit old, 2004, you’d think Qatar would splash out on something newer.
The caviar was not bad at all, particularly when matched with an ice cold shot of vodka, and the Bordeaux that flowed perpetually was a perfect match for the rather decently cooked steak. It was all a notch up from First Class on British Airways.
The bed was a little wider than on British Airways, but I have to say there was a distinct lack of privacy.
After a brief visit to the Business Class Lounge at Doha (It would have been much longer had I not called Griselda up and passed my telephone to the lounge chappie at the first Lounge so that she could explain to him why I should be allowed into said lounge.) I boarded my flight to Berlin. I was, quite rightly in seat 1A.
Griselda had briefed me on this flight well in advance, but I had paid no attention at all so it was quite a surprise to find myself facing backwards and in a fully enclosed suite with a door. Even more surprising was the ability to play my small hand held television on the big screen in my suite.
“This is First Class isn’t it?” I asked the uniformed chappie with a small flat television.
“No Mr Hancock this is Business Class.” Came the response
He was clearly confused, these foreign types often are, so I ordered breakfast and matched it with another decent Bordeaux. British Airways could learn a little from this cabin arrangement I thought to myself as I dozed off.
The three days in Berlin passed quickly, and I soon found myself preparing for another jaunt in First Class, although this time in 3K, Griselda had failed me yet again.
The phone call came through just hours before the flight and Griselda’s voice suggested a catastrophe was afoot.
“Mr Hancock, Mr Hancock, Qatar has changed the aeroplane to a version without the QSuite.”
I had no idea what she was talking about.
“The seats on your flight will be like the Qantas seats in Business Class on their A380 Aeroplane” She continued.
This was worse than a catastrophe, I would be flying in a seat that drooped, with no privacy, and little or no storage. Griselda had moved me to a middle seat so that I didn’t have to climb over anyone. It was an horrific prospect.
There were no last-minute surprises, other than the indignity and horror of having to travel on another cattle truck to the aeroplane, and I found myself in the dreaded seat Griselda had described to me. I opted for three or four medical single malts to help me through and slept all of the way to Doha.
“Griselda” I was firm in my tone “there appears to be an error in my booking”
“How so Mr Hancock?”
“The chappies here don’t appear to have my aeroplane ready for the flight to Melbourne and are telling me that it runs on some sort of scheduled service…and I’ll have to wait for another fourteen hours.”
I heard Griselda sigh and a response soon followed. “I did tell you Mr Hancock, the connections aren’t great, I suspect it was one of the reasons for the competitive price.”
This was beyond my comprehension, what sort of business was Qatar running, surely they just couldn’t leave important passengers hanging around an airport because they had failed to get the aeroplane ready.
Griselda continued with her airline schedule explanation but I was unhappy and asked her to contact the CEO of Qatar immediately and headed off to the bar for a stiff gin. The business class lounge, once again I was not allowed into the proper lounge, was a huge barn of a lounge, filled to the brim with dreadful business class types and their offspring, although within an hour or so they all vanished. (My assumption is that Griselda had got through to someone senior at Qatar and they had at least cleared the lounge, although Griselda maintained it was a “schedule” thing again.)
I like to learn about new things and ways when I travel, actually let me put that another way I have no interest in in new things but find them forced upon me against my will. In the Qatar lounge I found a whole new process called self-service, quite remarkable. One walks up to a counter and collects food and drink rather than have a waiter take an order and bring it to one’s table. i’m not sure it will catch on, primarily because is dreadful.
After wandering around I managed to find an area with small cubicles with what I would call a chaise longue (without the single back rest) inside. I dozed on and off for the rest of the day, but the constant need to fetch my gin & tonics was a bugbear.
When Qatar finally deemed it an acceptable time to fly me home, I boarded my flight to find that I would have to fly in Business Class again. I am not sure whether it was the 14 hour wait, the self-service in the lounge, or the gin and tonics but my will had been broken and I meekly maid my way to my seat, 16K. This was the third different type of business class seat I had sat in on three Qatar flights.
The seat was adequate, relatively private and moderately comfortable. I numbed the pain by launching an assault on the Bordeaux, which was rapidly becoming my go to anaesthetic, however the inability of the stewardess to deliver my anaesthetic in a timely fashion left me wide awake to the whole horror unfolding before me, including overcooked beef.
NB Empty wine glass
Even at my club, where I consider port and cigars as a separate course, it has never taken more than three hours to serve dinner, but the staff on the Qatar flight managed to drag dinner out to a full three and a half hours, and still only deliver me four, smallish, glasses of Bordeaux.
My frustration at breakfast revolved around bacon, or to be precise the lack of it. I’m all for a cheese omelette, although Griselda struggles to make a decent one, but without bacon it is just not a proper breakfast. No amount of gesticulation could get this message through, it was as if nobody ate pork products at Qatar.
At least I now have four weeks in Australia before my regular BA First Class to Blighty begins again and normality returns….and Griselda vows never to book flights at short notice through an online Travel Agency! (Apparently I got away with it – whatever that means.)
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