- Joined
- Aug 26, 2010
- Posts
- 5,645
OK so Hancock’s Half Holiday is a rather lame attempt at some sort of alliteration, it’s lazy and half hearted and I am blaming Griselda for it. I am an artist(e), a creative type, and cannot be expected to work under the conditions forced upon me by my half baked secretary.
In the last five years I have had little opportunity for a holiday, apart, obviously, from the 47 weeks “work” a year, which involves swanning around the world in J & F. I set Griselda the task of creating the perfect vacation for a chap of my status, something new, posh hotels, business class, first if possible, and of course it had to be cheap. I wish my instructions had been a little more precise because I now find myself lumbered with eighteen, yes eighteen, flights in eighteen days and just three nights at my holiday destination…….and to cap it all I am still dependent on the QF upgrade lottery for Business Class on a couple of flights. :shock:
It has been a while since I set pen to paper to inflict stories of my global travels upon you poor unsuspecting souls and as much as I’d like to say a lot has happened in the meantime….unfortunately it hasn’t……..well apart from the incident with the octopus but I have recovered completely from that, and I honestly didn’t expect the suckers to stick to the plate. (No Octopodes were hurt in the telling of this story but at least one was eaten at the dinner itself.)
Despite Griselda’s endless attempts to make my life miserable she has at least found something new for me, and something that has been on my bucket list for quite a while. I finally get to fly on BA001, admittedly it is not Concorde and when you break it down to the cold hard facts a business class flight on an Airbus A318 is hardly awe inspiring…..yet this really is a little special, it is the BA Babybus, with just 32 business class seats. It also stops at SNN for refuelling and allows the lucky few to clear US immigration and customs and land at JFK as a domestic flight.
Sadly my travel has become the polar opposite of simple and not it certainly isn’t fair for me. I love Qantas, and on the whole I have been well looked after, but the advent of simpler and fairer has left me on a slippery slope involving Diners Club, British Airways, Jetstar and 12 hour layovers. I’m not one to enjoy Qantas staff running around after me and catering for my every whim…errr……errrr…..actually that is exactly what I am, and I am going to miss it desperately.
It had to happen, the whole marginal Any Seat Award escapade appeared to be commercial suicide. My First and Business class globetrotting was made completely sustainable, and very inexpensive, by mASA’s. At one stage I was earning more that 200,000 points a year from mASA’s alone. Yes, I know you have to earn the points in the first place but I’m not one who gets a single point from the ATO. To cap it all I received numerous complimentary upgrades from Business to First on my regular mASA’s to Blighty. I have to pinch myself when I think that Qantas was providing me with its premium product for peanuts……and then throwing points and status credits back to me. It was mighty fine while it lasted.
Simpler and Fairer gave me about a year to requalify as a Platinum One, this would give me at least one other year of Platinum so my oneworld status would be locked in for two years. “Never in the field of frequent flying indolence has so much been gained for so little effort” Over 2,200 SC’s earned from mASA’s alone…and to think only three years ago I qualified as a P1 on all paid fares. Was I single handedly responsible for the decline and fall of the Qantas empire? I quickly dispelled that notion and placed the blame firmly at the door of those dreadful double status credit types. Simply awful people.
I set Griselda to work and heard her feverishly crashing away on the typewriter with the television screen. Apparently it is some sort of magical device that allows secretaries to look for ways for me to maintain the sort of lifestyle I have become accustomed to and of course deserve.
Her plan, which did not seem to be fox like in its cunning, was for me to become a BA frequent flyer. I was shocked and almost sacked her on the spot - only my hunger and the lunch she was preparing prevented me from doing so.
“BA” I heard myself splutter.
“Yes BA” She responded, in a tone that frightened even the dog.
I thought briefly about my previous tempestuous relationship with that fickle mistress…the dire customer service, dreadful website, and Club Europe - who can ever forget Club Europe………but then again there was something about the long haul J seats that had an air of privacy, especially when compared to the QF SkyDroopBed MK1 and MKII. BA had also purchased the odd A380 since my previous dalliance with “The World’s Favourite Airline”.
As I reached for a fork to eat the “soup” Griselda had so unlovingly prepared I wondered whether BA might actually work for me. I couldn’t, of course, be just one of those Gold sort of fellows, I’m the sort of chap that would need to be Gold Guest List (GGL) as an absolute minimum. No self respecting DYKWIA would be merely a Gold. I shudder at the thought.
So where is my holiday destination I would have liked to hear you all ask, but I do realise most of you have already gone back to something more useful than reading this utter tosh.
Griselda had selected Honolulu, which I believe is in The British Sandwich Islands, and a place I had only ever been for about an hour and a half on route from Vancouver to Sydney almost 20 years ago.
Apparently she had researched the trip on the TV, the one with the typewriter attached, and specifically somewhere called flyer pedant or pedant talk or something like that. She was quite full of herself explaining that by making trips of 2000 miles or more at a time the Tier Point earn for BA is maximised, particularly in the former colonies where Business Class is apparently called First Class. It was also most cost effective if my journey were to start in Dublin.
This was all well and good but I still had to get to Dublin and I’m not one to spend my easily earned cash on frivolous travel. Griselda hit upon a plan to book flights to Europe from Asia and found a rather marvellous deal with something called Sri Lankan Airlines from Singapore to Heathrow via Colombo. (A quick check of my 1958 Pears Cyclopedia and I realised she had mistaken Sri Lanka for Ceylon, an easy mistake to make and not uncommon in the less well educated.)
“…..but I still have to get to Singapore” I exhorted in a tone not too dissimilar to a giant peacock parading in the grounds of a country house near Hemel Hempstead.
“That’s easy” said Griselda, “book an economy fare with Qantas and pop and upgrade request in, how can they refuse a Platinum One as important as you?”
I was less confident but I pay…….well sort of pay*…Griselda to sort these things out, and whilst I don’t have a great deal of faith in her I am far too lazy, and important, obviously, to try and sort anything out myself.
Packing seemed an awfully complex affair, I typically only ever travel for business purposes, so this holiday travel is a whole new game. I’d still need to keep it smart for flying though I am fearful of upsetting those awful social media types. I carefully folded my dinner jacket, popping my mankini, inside it, avoiding creating any wrinkles, and added my all in one bathing suit, once worn by Oliver Hardy, just in case. I did wonder if I would be required to dress for dinner. Socks….mmmm better take some of them, I don’t want to get caught with my naked feet on the bulkhead.
So it was was with some trepidation that I headed to the Holiday Inn at Melbourne Airport on a dark night in early August. “Trepidation” you say. Well yes, for a start the check in process at the Holiday Inn is a long drawn out affair involving the duty manager as I explain that whilst my name is indeed correct I have yet again been confused with someone else and the IHG number, address and phone number that have now appeared in the booking are nothing to to do with me. A week later I will be submitting my claim for the stay as I do overtime I stay there. :evil:
*Griselda is an intern.
In the last five years I have had little opportunity for a holiday, apart, obviously, from the 47 weeks “work” a year, which involves swanning around the world in J & F. I set Griselda the task of creating the perfect vacation for a chap of my status, something new, posh hotels, business class, first if possible, and of course it had to be cheap. I wish my instructions had been a little more precise because I now find myself lumbered with eighteen, yes eighteen, flights in eighteen days and just three nights at my holiday destination…….and to cap it all I am still dependent on the QF upgrade lottery for Business Class on a couple of flights. :shock:
It has been a while since I set pen to paper to inflict stories of my global travels upon you poor unsuspecting souls and as much as I’d like to say a lot has happened in the meantime….unfortunately it hasn’t……..well apart from the incident with the octopus but I have recovered completely from that, and I honestly didn’t expect the suckers to stick to the plate. (No Octopodes were hurt in the telling of this story but at least one was eaten at the dinner itself.)
Despite Griselda’s endless attempts to make my life miserable she has at least found something new for me, and something that has been on my bucket list for quite a while. I finally get to fly on BA001, admittedly it is not Concorde and when you break it down to the cold hard facts a business class flight on an Airbus A318 is hardly awe inspiring…..yet this really is a little special, it is the BA Babybus, with just 32 business class seats. It also stops at SNN for refuelling and allows the lucky few to clear US immigration and customs and land at JFK as a domestic flight.
Sadly my travel has become the polar opposite of simple and not it certainly isn’t fair for me. I love Qantas, and on the whole I have been well looked after, but the advent of simpler and fairer has left me on a slippery slope involving Diners Club, British Airways, Jetstar and 12 hour layovers. I’m not one to enjoy Qantas staff running around after me and catering for my every whim…errr……errrr…..actually that is exactly what I am, and I am going to miss it desperately.
It had to happen, the whole marginal Any Seat Award escapade appeared to be commercial suicide. My First and Business class globetrotting was made completely sustainable, and very inexpensive, by mASA’s. At one stage I was earning more that 200,000 points a year from mASA’s alone. Yes, I know you have to earn the points in the first place but I’m not one who gets a single point from the ATO. To cap it all I received numerous complimentary upgrades from Business to First on my regular mASA’s to Blighty. I have to pinch myself when I think that Qantas was providing me with its premium product for peanuts……and then throwing points and status credits back to me. It was mighty fine while it lasted.
Simpler and Fairer gave me about a year to requalify as a Platinum One, this would give me at least one other year of Platinum so my oneworld status would be locked in for two years. “Never in the field of frequent flying indolence has so much been gained for so little effort” Over 2,200 SC’s earned from mASA’s alone…and to think only three years ago I qualified as a P1 on all paid fares. Was I single handedly responsible for the decline and fall of the Qantas empire? I quickly dispelled that notion and placed the blame firmly at the door of those dreadful double status credit types. Simply awful people.
I set Griselda to work and heard her feverishly crashing away on the typewriter with the television screen. Apparently it is some sort of magical device that allows secretaries to look for ways for me to maintain the sort of lifestyle I have become accustomed to and of course deserve.
Her plan, which did not seem to be fox like in its cunning, was for me to become a BA frequent flyer. I was shocked and almost sacked her on the spot - only my hunger and the lunch she was preparing prevented me from doing so.
“BA” I heard myself splutter.
“Yes BA” She responded, in a tone that frightened even the dog.
I thought briefly about my previous tempestuous relationship with that fickle mistress…the dire customer service, dreadful website, and Club Europe - who can ever forget Club Europe………but then again there was something about the long haul J seats that had an air of privacy, especially when compared to the QF SkyDroopBed MK1 and MKII. BA had also purchased the odd A380 since my previous dalliance with “The World’s Favourite Airline”.
As I reached for a fork to eat the “soup” Griselda had so unlovingly prepared I wondered whether BA might actually work for me. I couldn’t, of course, be just one of those Gold sort of fellows, I’m the sort of chap that would need to be Gold Guest List (GGL) as an absolute minimum. No self respecting DYKWIA would be merely a Gold. I shudder at the thought.
So where is my holiday destination I would have liked to hear you all ask, but I do realise most of you have already gone back to something more useful than reading this utter tosh.
Griselda had selected Honolulu, which I believe is in The British Sandwich Islands, and a place I had only ever been for about an hour and a half on route from Vancouver to Sydney almost 20 years ago.
Apparently she had researched the trip on the TV, the one with the typewriter attached, and specifically somewhere called flyer pedant or pedant talk or something like that. She was quite full of herself explaining that by making trips of 2000 miles or more at a time the Tier Point earn for BA is maximised, particularly in the former colonies where Business Class is apparently called First Class. It was also most cost effective if my journey were to start in Dublin.
This was all well and good but I still had to get to Dublin and I’m not one to spend my easily earned cash on frivolous travel. Griselda hit upon a plan to book flights to Europe from Asia and found a rather marvellous deal with something called Sri Lankan Airlines from Singapore to Heathrow via Colombo. (A quick check of my 1958 Pears Cyclopedia and I realised she had mistaken Sri Lanka for Ceylon, an easy mistake to make and not uncommon in the less well educated.)
“…..but I still have to get to Singapore” I exhorted in a tone not too dissimilar to a giant peacock parading in the grounds of a country house near Hemel Hempstead.
“That’s easy” said Griselda, “book an economy fare with Qantas and pop and upgrade request in, how can they refuse a Platinum One as important as you?”
I was less confident but I pay…….well sort of pay*…Griselda to sort these things out, and whilst I don’t have a great deal of faith in her I am far too lazy, and important, obviously, to try and sort anything out myself.
Packing seemed an awfully complex affair, I typically only ever travel for business purposes, so this holiday travel is a whole new game. I’d still need to keep it smart for flying though I am fearful of upsetting those awful social media types. I carefully folded my dinner jacket, popping my mankini, inside it, avoiding creating any wrinkles, and added my all in one bathing suit, once worn by Oliver Hardy, just in case. I did wonder if I would be required to dress for dinner. Socks….mmmm better take some of them, I don’t want to get caught with my naked feet on the bulkhead.
So it was was with some trepidation that I headed to the Holiday Inn at Melbourne Airport on a dark night in early August. “Trepidation” you say. Well yes, for a start the check in process at the Holiday Inn is a long drawn out affair involving the duty manager as I explain that whilst my name is indeed correct I have yet again been confused with someone else and the IHG number, address and phone number that have now appeared in the booking are nothing to to do with me. A week later I will be submitting my claim for the stay as I do overtime I stay there. :evil:
*Griselda is an intern.
