“Not again, surely?” I queried with almost complete resignation.
“I am afraid so Mr Hancock” Griselda responded, with a level of smugness that bordered on insubordination.
“…..but, but, but I have done it once this year already wasn’t that enough?”
“Actually Mr Hancock” she continued “It is only thanks to an
Etihad Business Class flight later in August that you will retain your
Virgin Australia Platinum status.”
“…..and remind me again why do I need Platinum Status with
Virgin Australia?” I enquired.
“Oh Mr Hancock” I detected a sort of playfulness in Griselda that was quite unpleasant. “You know you like priority boarding, upgrades, and being able to change to an earlier flight.”
I had switched off again I had far more important things on my mind, not least, how I would cope with yet another four long haul Singapore Airlines economy flights.
China was a country that was growing on me though, for a start the hotels were rather good and I seemed to regularly get upgraded to a top floor suite. Then there was the general acceptance of me as a VIP, the west could learn a lot from this. The food was rather good too. OK this whole chopstick thing was a bit absurd but one can always get proper eating implements at decent restaurants.
The journey started after a rather pleasant evening with friends at a restaurant in that most awful of cities Sydney. Eating an entire pig made up for the location though.
I was to fly Singapore Airlines again, and Grisleda had paid extra to secure seats with unlimited space for my long and, even if I say so myself, rather athletic legs, but first I had to take a train from the centre of Sydney to the airport. Like most experiences involving Sydney airport this was particularly unpleasant.
“Would Mr Hancock please go to the reception desk” came the announcement over the tannoy in the Singapore airlines Lounge.
At last they had realised who I was. I was used to this sort of request and looked forward to the new boarding pass.
“Mr Hancock, we just needed to check that you had the correct boarding passes” said the lady at the reception desk.
“I suspect not” I responded with a knowing wink, handing my two passes over for inspection.
“No all is good Mr Hancock you have the correct passes” the lady pointed out.
I wondered whether Griselda had put the lady behind the reception desk up to this.
Fortunately I had a seat free next to me on the flight to Singapore, and this tempered the constant desire for the older lady in the windows seat to talk to me.
With a four-hour layover in Singapore I could not bear to accommodate myself in the Singapore GoldKrisFlyer lounge and opted for the dnata lounge instead. This was to prove disastrous but led to a useful outcome.
As I tucked into the somewhat strange tasting chicken sandwich I settled into a gin and tonic.
I am not one to complain……hang on let me rephrase that, I am the first to complain. The Boeing 777 aircraft I flew from Singapore to Shanghai on had the most uncomfortable economy seat I have ever sat in. It, after presumably years of service, had given up completely. It was like sitting on a park bench. :shock:
So after no sleep, and a taxi driver that whilst nodded profusely and seeming agreeing, showed no skills in his chosen profession, I finally arrived at the holiday Inn at Hongqiao. A Suite will do nicely thank you. Although to be fair any room would have done. The chicken sandwich from the dnata lounge at Singapore had left me in a condition that prevented me from even trying alcohol. This was serious.
It took a full day for me to recover sufficiently to partake of a gin and tonic, and I was a little sheepish as I arrived at Hongqiao Airport for an early morning flight to Beijing.
'twas a touch damp.
“Griselda, have you provided my updated passport details to the China office?”
“I’m not sure” came the response, which I took as ‘No”.
“Well I’ll have to deduct the replacement cost from your salary then Griselda. And the only option is business class.” It was to be a harsh lesson for Griselda.
My illness had meant a late arrival at the airport, which had left only a replacement ticket solution. I was rather pleased to be in business class and my stomach was absolutely delighted.
China Eastern Business Class on an Airbus A330.....apparently.
The Crowne Plaza at Beijing International Airport may be a fine hotel, the suite I had been upgraded to was rather pleasant but the inability to take advantage of the Club Lounge for either “happy hour” or breakfast the next morning was frustrating. Griselda needs to spend more time educating my hosts on the four-hour working day.
Crowne Plaza Beijing Airport - Suite
The economy class flights to Shenyang and then back to Shanghai did little to lighten my mood. The beer at Shenyang airport was interesting.
Black Beer for me then.
A return to the Hilton at Hongqiao did cheer me up a little. There is nothing like a self poured gin and…..mmmm…what is that other thing….mmmmm, oh yes, ice.
It had been a week of a constant 24 degrees at hotels and The Hilton Hongqiao continued this theme. I did wonder if the Chinese Government had issued an edict on this and whether I would ever get the temperature down to 19 glorious degrees Celcius.
The return journey was not something I was looking forward to. Griselda had been unable to secure empty seats next to me on my flight to Singapore and worse still, not on the flight from Singapore to Melbourne.
The crew on the Shanghai to Singapore flight managed to serve me three gin and tonics although only the first had tonic in it. The second was a genuinely excellent effort that was just gin and ice, but the third was a gin and soda. :shock:
Before I describe my final flight to Melbourne I need to give a little background. Griselda had introduced me to a pair of Australian words that resonated deeply with me. The first was Bogan. In my day we often referred to Eliza Doolittle types but quite frankly Eliza Doolittle is charming in comparison. My understanding is that my colleagues in The United Kingdom use the term “chav”. The second word that I find wonderfully amusing, in the correct context of course, is “feral”.
Griselda had also recommended that I watch a movie called Grimsby, a modern, and allegedly comic effort. I did watch this new fangled rubbish on my previous trip to Blighty, but was left ruing doing so.
On my Singapore Airlines flight to Melbourne I was faced with the Bogan extended feral family from hell. Interestingly, little baby Bogan was the best behaved of the lot. Once they crammed him into the bassinet he just slept. (I say crammed because, in age, he was nearer to reaching
Borstal than he was to his birth.
)
I did wonder if I had somehow inadvertently stepped on to the set of an Australian prequel to "Grimsby", rather than an SQ 777 bound for Melbourne. Clearly Mummy and Daddy Bogan had decided to model themselves, in just about every way, on the Rebel Wilson and Sacha Baron Cohen characters from the movie. Both were utterly inept, no seriously they were just utterly useless human beings, at just about everything other than stuffing food into their mouths. This was scary because it showed an instinct to survive coupled with an instinct to breed that had already been demonstrated. It was at this point I realized the human race was doomed.
Grandad Bogan was an absolute delight; I lost count of the number of times the crew needed to explain to him that he was blocking the aisle or that he needed to be careful when passing the small TV screens in the exit row seats. Grandma Bogan simply used the screens for support, and why not clearly no one else mattered.
When they weren't blocking the aisle they were blocking the galley, much to the crew’s delight. (For those with little familiarity of my writing style this particular sentence is employing the use of sarcasm.)
Teenage Bogan looked resplendent, in singlet and thongs, as he strode about the cabin bumping into each and every aisle seat in the cabin repeatedly. Quite why he was unable to negotiate the aisle without putting his hands on every seat was beyond me. I wondered how his peanut sized brain communicated with his lungs to initiate breathing.)
How I prayed for turbulence so that the seat belt sign would be illuminated.....but when that particular relief finally came it just caused mummy Bogan to unbuckle her belt and start marauding the cabin. I suspect she was in search of food, although it appeared unlikely that it would be for baby Bogan.
I stopped counting after the 20th time I had to recover my TV screen and just stowed it. There seemed little point in trying to watch anything under the circumstances. The crew really did try but on a full flight with what seemed an awful lot of passengers who had never been on an aircraft before they were just overwhelmed.
Arrival to Melbourne could not come soon enough and after the 40 degree heat of Shanghai the cold and dark morning came as welcome relief. Escaping the crowded airport and collecting my car from the Holiday Inn was a rare pleasurable experience on this trip.
Next week it is back to Blighty……with Malaysia Airlines. :shock:
TTFN
