I’ll warn you now, you’re not going to like some of my rules for dealing with
the great British summer getaway. But you’ll thank me in the long run. Maybe.
You see, going on holiday, particularly in the summer, particularly if you’ve
had the misfortune to procreate, is, well, exhausting. And that’s if
everything goes incredibly well. If it doesn’t, as everyone who got stranded
at Heathrow last year will know, it’s a total and utter nightmare.
Air travel out of Britain has become a miserable experience, which is a shame,
because a holiday is supposed to be the time we unwind.
The trouble is, as with childbirth, we’re programmed to forget the bad bits.
If we weren’t, we’d never go on holiday again, or have children. There’d be
no more suntans and the human race would cease to exist. Which wouldn’t be
much fun.
So, the queuing, the arguing, the elbowing, the lack of sleep, the lack of
food, the lack of legroom, the terrible tantrums, the terribly long time it
took to get anywhere, because everything’s so damned overcrowded and
bureaucratic, is erased from our selective memory. Lost, too, is that sense
of unbridled relief when you finally make it home, put the kettle on and
have the first sip of the first decent cup of tea for a fortnight
(whispering, “Let’s never do that again, darling” to your darling as you do).
By the time the tempting brochures slide naughtily through your letter box,
you’ve gone all rose-tinted. You can only remember the beach you finally
made it to, not the four-day argument you had over whose stingy fault it was
that you flew no-frills.
Remember the reality. I know it hurts, but picture it. And, now the horror is
flooding back, let’s set about making sure we don’t make the same mistakes
again.
I’m not saying that your holiday will be perfect if you follow my draconian
rules. You might even feel you’ve been cheated (because this is going to
involve some tough love, some scaling down of ambitions, some unfashionable
decisions). But it will be a lot less stressful.
1 PACK WHAT YOU NEED, THEN HALVE IT
You’ve been told before, and I’ll tell you again, that you really do not need
four bikinis. All you have to do is set out everything you need, then halve
it.
Everyone always packs too many trousers, shirts, hairdryers, warm jumpers,
kitchen sinks. It means greater risk of a hernia from all the lugging,
greater tips for the bellboys, even though they’re only doing their job,
greater wastes of precious holiday time unpacking it all, and greater
dilemmas trying to work out what to wear in the morning.
Take a couple of outfits and skimp on everything else. Except, gentlemen, for
pants: this is a holiday, and I don’t want to be held responsible for
upsetting your loved ones.
The 50% rule, by the way, turns into a 75% rule if you have children. Loading
yourselves down with 400 bags each only makes travelling more stressful, not
less. So prams are out, slings are in, nappies are out (buy some when you
arrive), 5,000 of little Johnny’s favourite toys are out, and a fortnight of
special food is out, too. Kids are more adaptable than grown-ups, honest,
and you’ll have a much better chance of surviving the journey if you travel
light.
2 CHECK IN ONLINE
Yes, this is annoying, because it’s exactly what the airlines want us to do –
but, in this case, being the anticyber rebel is only going to make life more
difficult.
British Airways opens its check-in 24 hours before the flight departs, and
plenty of irritatingly well-organised underpant-ironers are standing by
their computers, poised unblinkingly to nab the best seats. Join the battle,
grab your seats and the actual airport process will be a lot easier.
3 THINK LONG AND HARD ABOUT FLYING RYANAIR
Yes, it can be incredibly cheap. Yes, it doesn’t lose nearly as many bags as
BA. Yes, you could always take your own sandwiches on board, but, really, is
Ryanair worth the hassle?
Michael O’Leary, the airline’s charming chief executive, once said: “The
European consumer would crawl naked over broken glass to get low fares.”
This procedure has not, as yet, been incorporated into Ryanair’s service,
but he’s right: it is almost impossible to resist a bargain flight. And so
we’ve allowed the pile-’em-high, sell-’em-cheap model to remove the romance
of travel.
First and worst, there’s no allocated seating, so it’s a bundle. If you’d only
spend a few more quid and buy your You see this? That’s you, that is, or it
could be if you follow our guide to a stress-free break ticket from an
old-fogeyish airline, you could just let everyone else pile on first, then
wander nonchalantly down the aisle and find your seat waiting for you.
Second, no free drinks, no free food. I like “Chicken or beef?” I like a
phew-we-made-it, let-the-holiday-begin bloody mary. It’s all extra on
Ryanair, EasyJet et al. And so it’s not the same.
Third, a relatively new one. Try booking online, and these penny-pinching
no-frillers want to know how many bags you intend to put in the hold. IT’S
THREE MONTHS UNTIL OUR HOLIDAY! HOW SHOULD WE KNOW? Extra bags cost extra
money. Not knowing how many bags you’ll have until you get to the airport
costs extra money. Checking in costs extra money. Pretty soon, flying will
cost extra money.
Fourth and finally, as anyone who has the pleasure of reading our weekly
mailbag (aka me) will know, Ryanair does not seem to give a monkey’s when
things go wrong. Its fares are cheap because it has little customer support.
If your plane doesn’t turn up, tough. If your bag goes missing, tough. As
O’Leary put it when railing against the EU’s attempts to bring in more
rights for stranded passengers: “Get over it. Your flight only cost $20.”
4 AVOID HEATHROW
Terminal 5 opens this spring and, with BA shunting all its operations out of
the other terminals, there’s a good chance that Heathrow will become less
creaky.
But man, they’ve got a lot of ground to make up. It’s either a pig or a
rip-off to get to, before you even think about the check-in queues and
largely pointless security (“Terrorists must be rolling around the caves in
Pakistan laughing at us . . . We are not in danger of dying at the hands of
toiletries,” O’Leary said in 2006. So he does speak sense sometimes).
Then, when you finally get through, you are confronted with a million shops
and only four uncomfortable seats. For transfers in particular, when bags
and connections are vulnerable, our flagship airport is best avoided until
we’ve seen that it can be trusted again.
With airports, small is beautiful (because you can live without 52 shops and a
business lounge). Those we think can be trusted include London City (we
really love London City), Leeds/Bradford, Southampton, Prestwick,
Bournemouth, Belfast City and the shed that is Coventry airport. It might be
a shed, but everyone’s friendly, even the security people, and the car park
is a short walk away. Last time I had a choice between Luton and Coventry, I
went for Coventry, even though I live in Kent.
5 DON’T FLY ANYWHERE BEFORE 7AM
Don’t do it. Even if you’ve ignored my last rule because the 6am flight is
only 8p, don’t do it. Even if it’s your perfect Med island, the one you’ve
set your heart on because the pictures on the internet just look soooo
aquamarine, and does it really matter if it’s only reachable via a 5am
charter, don’t do it. I’m afraid you’re going to have to change islands.
Let me remind you what happens if you’re crazy enough to book a 6amer. You
have to be at check-in at four (well, not really – see rule seven – but
you’re ignoring my advice anyway, so four it is). There’s no public
transport at four, so let’s assume you’re driving. Better get to the Pink
Blimming Platypus car park a good half-hour before that, just on the off
chance it takes for ever to find and for ever to lug all your (heavy – why
didn’t you listen?) bags to the bus stop and for ever for a bus to turn up.
Even if you’re lucky enough to live right on the flight path, that’s still a
2am alarm clock. For everyone else, it’s 1am. Or 12.30. Or
is-there-really-any-point-at-all-going-to-sleep?
So, book a flight in the magic window that is 10am to 1pm. The airport’s
morning rush is over, everyone’s a little less grumpy and, although it means
you get less time at the other end, you won’t be a zombie. Well, you will,
but it will be on your own terms.
6 GET A ROOM
If you absolutely insist on the 5am-flight-only island, stay at an airport
hotel the night before you fly. It means more money (but not as much as you
think: airport hotels often offer blisteringly good park’n’fly deals) and
more planning (you’re going to have to pack a day in advance, and leave 12
hours earlier than you would have done), but it’s a fantastic stress-buster.
No last-minute, redeyed, have-we-got-the-passports race to the airport, just
a calm pootle the night before, enforced TV relaxation in your boxy room and
swathes of extra sleep to put you in the mood for what, let’s not forget, is
supposed to be a holiday.
For an in-depth look at the best airport hotels, go to timesonline.co.uk/airporthotels.
7 ARRIVE LATE AT THE AIRPORT
This seems to fly in the face of stress-free travel, but it really works, even
in this age of heightened/hysterical security. Airlines and operators like
you to arrive at least two hours, preferably nine, before departure, which
means a lot of queuing, a lot of hanging around and a lot of trying to
prevent your wife/kids buying perfume/chocolate.
Arrive an hour before and things happen a lot more quickly. At check-in, you
simply ignore the enormous snaking queue, wander up to anyone in the right
airline uniform and explain that you’re terribly late for your flight.
Whooosh! You’re through as if you booked business.
Note: this doesn’t work if you booked Ryanair, which I have already advised
against. It is also not advisable if you are of a fragile state of mind.
Cool cucumbers only.
8 PIMP YOUR RIDE
As in, treat yourself to a few stress-relieving extras. It is, by common
consent, a complete waste of money to book business class if you’re flying
short haul. The seats are often the same: the only real, noticeable
differences are the food, the preflight fizz and the lounge. These days, you
can get the perks without the expense: meet-and-greet parking (from £10.50 a
day) means you can drive right up to the airport and avoid that nervy search
for the yellow armadillo (some meet-and-greet companies will even valet your
car while you’re away). Nonbranded lounge access (from £18.50) might not be
as flash as the flagship airline option, but it’s still a welcome refuge.
And, if you wind up with more than a few hours to kill, some of those
airport hotels do day rooms – for example, the Gatwick Hilton has family
rooms from 9am to 6pm, with PlayStation (arrghh), movies and use of the
pool, for about £80.
Holiday Extras (0871 360 2186, www.holidayextras.co.uk)
specialises in DIY add-ons. Or try Holiday Hypermarket (www.holidayhypermarket.co.uk/extras),
under the First Choice umbrella, which offers a similar service.
Or, given how much you’re saving by not flying business (because you were
going to, weren’t you?) and assuming you ignored rule 7, you could always
treat yourselves to a slap-up sit-down meal. Gordon Ramsay will open a
restaurant at Terminal 5, but remember: you’re going to try to avoid
Heathrow. And obviously this wouldn’t work at Luton (but then you also
agreed that you aren’t going to fly no-frills).
At Gatwick, you could almost believe you weren’t in an airport at all if you
booked one of Chez Gérard’s tucked-away window tables for two (North
Terminal; 01293 609150), but better still are the Caviar House & Prunier
seafood bars (at Gatwick, Stansted and Heathrow) – quick, posh, good value
and strangely removed from the airport maelstrom (even though they’re smack
bang in the middle of departures). What better way to start your stress-free
holiday than with smoked salmon and a glass of champagne?
9 DON’T GO AWAY IN AUGUST
Cue lots of complaining from school-enslaved families and militant teachers
about how “It’s all right for you, but we’ve got no other option”. Well, you
have. It’s called winter.
Seriously, why go away when everyone else does? Particularly as it’s the only
time of year when we have the slightest chance of decent weather in our own
back yard.
The Med is twice as expensive, and it’s too hot. If you took a granny, she
simply wouldn’t survive. And, of course, getting to the airport is
impossible because of gridlock Britain.
Families and teachers should take their summer holidays in the winter. Or
during the Easter holidays, at a stretch. I know prices peak then, too, but
not to the same extent. Everyone else should do the Med in May or at the end
of September. It’s much, much less stressful.
10... OR JUST DON’T FLY AT ALL
This might rule out the southern reaches of the Continent (though not if you
like train travel), but who cares? Assuming you want something a little more
exotic than a fortnight in a tent at the bottom of your garden (the ultimate
stress-free holiday, provided you remember to disconnect the phone right at
the start), there’s still the whole of our own green and pleasant land. Plus
France, I suppose. A short hop on the ferry, a quick drive on traffic-free
roads, an affordable, crumbly chateau in Normandy. Sure, you’re not going to
make your competitive friends go “Wow!”. But at least you won’t come back
from your holiday more exhausted than you were when you left.
