2016 The Hancock Year of Hell

[love_the_life]

Excuse me Mr Hancock, please explain !!

My thoughts exactly. I wondered if TH was forced to economise and share a room? And who it would be who scored the roll away???:shock:

 

[JessicaTam]

My thoughts exactly. I wondered if TH was forced to economise and share a room? And who it would be who scored the roll away???:shock:

Perhaps Griselda was planning a surprise visit. :shock:

Apologies for those having dinner.

 

[Pushka]

I totally missed the bed!

 

[Bindibuys]

I noticed the roll away, but was not game to mention it. (for fear of Griselda being blamed.)

 

[Pushka]

Well it seems we wont be getting an explanation.

 

[love_the_life]

Well it seems we wont be getting an explanation.

I think TH said he folded and stacked the rollaway against the wall. This was supposedly an upgraded room. Wonder what the others are like?

 

[docjames]

I assumed it would be pushed out into the hallway for Griselda....

 

[TonyHancock]

“Stone me what a life.” Were the words that came from my mouth, my thoughts were perhaps not as sanitised.

“It’s not my fault.” Griselda proffered unhelpfully.

"..but….but….but it can’t be right, I’m not scheduled to be back in the UK until early October.”

“I know Mr Hancock but plans have changed and you will need to be there in late July and late August as well” I could picture the glimmer of satisfaction in Griselda’s eyes as she spoke.

“There is no money left in the budget, how on earth am I going to get there….and let’s be clear about this I am not flying economy.” I was at my masterful best, or worst depending upon which side of the fence you sit on.

“Well” started Griselda “I can get you on Business Class flights with Malaysian Airlines in July for a reasonable price, and you won’t even have to go to Norway.”

“Malaysia Airlines? Weren’t they in the news last year?” I asked, racking my brain to try and recall why.

“I don’t think so” Griselda responded nervously.

“What about August?” I asked, giving up on the Malaysia Airlines question.

“That will be tricky, I can get a good Business Class deal with Etihad from Bangkok but it would mean playing the upgrade lottery with Qantas to get to Bangkok” Griselda was already on the case and I really didn’t understand any of this sort of thing.

My life had come to this, in a year where I had been forced to stay multiple times at The Holiday Inn at Melbourne Airport, flown economy to Shanghai and suffered the indignity of stumbling over a roll away bed at the Crowne Plaza in Copenhagen my secretary was scratching around with Airlines I knew next to nothing about trying to find ways to get me to the UK cheaply. All I wanted was to be paid vast sums of money with the occasional First Class jolly thrown in for doing nothing. Was it too much to ask for?

“I’ll have to go now Ms Pugh, Lucilla is bringing me my Dry Martini.” I hung up at that point.



I still had to find my way home from the seventh and current trip to Blighty this year, and despite the sanctuary of the Concorde Room at Heathrow I was only an hour or so away from Club World on a British Airways Boeing 777 Aeroplane.

As usual my boarding pass failed to make the equipment at the gate beep and flash a red light and I was, sadly, making my way down to seat 16A. I was the first to board, always useful even in Club World, when one has a trunk and a Gladstone Bag to stow. Unfortunately the crew had decided to take all of the overhead locker space above my seat. I feared for my Homburg hat.

“Can I hang your coat sir?” Asked the young steward.

“No thanks it is fine on the hook there.” I responded firmly, but politely.

“Well you can’t leave it there for take off” came the curt response.

“I’ll hold it for take off”

As I settled into my seat, listening to Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 in G major, I finally felt relaxed.

“You’ll have to wear the coat you can’t hold it during take off” the young steward shattered my relaxed mode.

This was not going well.


Is that Concorde I see?

The Purser, although I believe she thought she was a customer service manager, was quite apologetic about the levels of service on board and when she popped over to see me again four hours into the flight I think even she was surprised that no one had cleared away the glass, bottle and can from my one and only drink finished three hours ago. :shock:

Much like the automatic blinds, the biggest improvement to in flight entertainment since the paperback book, I am fascinated with the door to The Concorde Bar. Keying in the numbers on the little electronic pad and watching the door magically open, whilst in turn being watched by the ordinary passengers never ceases to cheer me up.

My little chat with the purser appeared to have struck a chord and the red light and beep at the gate in Singapore was to provide welcome respite from the ravages of Club World. 1K was to be my seat and deservedly so.

Astonishingly the rather lovely stewardess was able to find seat 1K without taking me on a complete tour of the First Class cabin. Now ordinarily 1A and 1K on most aircraft are not my favourite seats, but on the British Airways Boeing 777 they are absolutely marvellous. For a start the water closets are located at the rear of the cabin so one doesn’t have the riff raff constantly disturbing you. My favourite feature is the rather generous storage cupboard complete with hangar, this is significantly larger than in the other seats.



This was more like it, decent food and claret and some mighty fine in flight service from a very professional crew – mixed fleet too so that was a surprise.



As we began our final approach to Sydney the Purser announced that for those transferring to a Qantas domestic flight we could take advantage of something called “Qantas Seamless Transfer”. Was this new? Did this mean we would not have to walk half the length of the airport to the domestic transfer building and wait until 5:30 AM for it to open, and then wait a further 30 minutes for a livestock truck? :?:

…errrrr………errrrrrr well no. That was, apparently, the “seamless transfer”. My “seamless transfer” involved catching a train, which did run prior to 6:00 AM.

“The flights to Melbourne are quite full this morning but we can move you to the 7:00 AM” beamed the Qantas customer service lady at the Business Lounge entrance.

“Thank you! I wonder if you could pop my British Airways Frequent Flyer number in for me now?” I asked sheepishly.

Another trip to Blighty ended with a domestic leg to Melbourne and my third breakfast of the morning. The poached eggs were really rather good, the green stuff...not so much.



Shanghai next week…………in economy ……..again. :shock:

TTFN

 

[jneufeld]

“Malaysia Airlines? Weren’t they in the news last year?” I asked, racking my brain to try and recall why.

“I don’t think so” Griselda responded nervously.

This is perfect!

 

[TonyHancock]

“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

 

[TonyHancock]

“It’s just a passing fad Ms Pugh” I exhorted.

“I’m not so sure Mr Hancock” was Griselda’s quick response.

“I remember the Pogo stick, it was going to be the next big thing and where is it now?” I challenged.

Griselda had recently read a book called The [-]Expi[/-] [-]Expa[/-] Exponential Organization and was sure that digital technology would take over the world. I’d seen this sort of doom mongering before and it always passes over and a new fad appears.

“Next you’ll be telling me everyone will have one of those new fangled computer things in the home” I chuckled to myself as I said the words, the mere thought of people having computer things in the home was absurd.

Griselda just sighed.

I was convinced that I had read something about Malaysia Airlines in the news last year, or maybe the year before, but Griselda had assured me, with a lack of conviction I have to say, that I was mistaken.

It had been more than a year since I had flown with Malaysia Airlines and my only memory was that the big double decker aeroplane had the same awful seat layout that Qantas had employed. Not only that they had a similar sort of seat with no footrest, the design would surely lead to a droop as a result.

My journey started at the Qantas First Class Lounge at Melbourne Airport. Once I had negotiated my way past the front desk I raced to my favourite sofa. My heart sank when I saw there was one other passenger in the lounge. It meant that the chance of actually receiving any service at all was halved. There was a time when the Melbourne Qantas First Class Lounge was the best in the world, these days it is no more than a second rate business class lounge. Service levels are at an all time low and there is not even a self-service section for wine any more.



It was, therefore quite surprising when, after fifteen minutes, a member of staff approached me and asked if there was anything I wanted. (At this stage I realised the other chap had left the lounge.) I ordered the traditional club sandwich and chips with a glass of claret. I even managed to get one top up without having to venture to the bar.

I’m not really on top of these planey things, but apparently I was to fly on an Airbus A330 in business class. The only thing I knew about Airbus aeroplanes is that they are relatively safe as long as they are not flown by Air France pilots, who, I am reliably informed, are only trained to press the go button and the stop button. This can be quite challenging if something happens in-between going and stopping, and not even waking the pilot up, who is likely to be asleep, helps.



Griselda had selected seat 4K, which is a “throne” seat and quite befitting for someone of my status. After take off and a G&T I was presented with meat on sticks with some sort of peanut sauce. Despite my preference for cutlery when dining it was actually rather pleasant.


mmmmmmm meat on sticks with peanut sauce.

The Golden Lounge at Kuala Lumpur was not unpleasant and unlike the Qantas Lounge the staff seemed able to cope with four and even at one stage five guests. My G&T was refreshed regularly without having to chase staff members around the lounge.



The big Airbus plane was as I remembered it, this was my 99[SUP]th[/SUP] flight on the double decker Airbus according to Griselda, and the seat layout was exactly as I thought it would be. Griselda had selected an aisle seat in the middle section, in the mini cabin at the front. Once again we had meat on sticks with peanut sauce. After three G&T’s and a bottle and a half of claret I slept all the way through to London skipping breakfast.

Terminal 4 at London Heathrow always leaves me feeling uncomfortable, not least because it is the home of SkyTeam. At any second an Air France aeroplane could crash into the terminal or another aircraft. I was quick to escape to Terminal 2 and partake of my daily morning ablution in the arrivals lounge there. (Griselda had furnished me with something called a Priority Pass card that proved most useful.)

This was a quick trip to Blighty, four days, and involved a sojourn to Wales for a day. Little did I realise I would be charged for entering Wales, and a whopping Six pounds 12 shillings at that. Pfffft. :?:

The return journey began at the Hilton Hotel at London Heathrow Terminal 4, which was sufficient distance from the terminal itself to give me some comfort. I left it until the last minute to check in, having carefully ensuring that there would be no Air France aeroplanes taking off or landing whilst I would be there.

The Malaysian First Class lounge was small but at least it kept me away from the hordes in the business class lounge. It also served a half decent G&T.

Mmmmm more meat on sticks with peanut sauce. I was rather liking this. Once again Griselda had selected a row two middle aisle in the forward cabin of this Airbus double decker. I must admit I did not find the seats drooped like the ones on the Qantas equivalent aeroplane. Seven hours sleep, albeit a touch restless, was welcome.

Another stop at the Malaysian First Class lounge in Kuala Lumpur proved pleasant and another throne seat on the journey back to Melbourne was most satisfactory.



I rather enjoyed the flights, the service was excellent, the food was half decent, as were the seats. If I have one criticism of the onboard service it is that the wine refills were not as frequent as a quaffer like me would prefer.

It is Brisbane for a day next week.

TTFN

 

[TonyHancock]

“You will be pleased to know that both upgrades came through straight away so you will be in business class there and back

I used points for the flight to Brisbane and an upgrade voucher blah blah blah blah……” Griselda went on and on an on.

I had switched off at the point where the upgrades had been confirmed; it was all I needed to know.

This was another last minute trip and one I could have done without.

“Thank you Ms Pugh.” I thought I ought to say something, if only to stop her from talking.

“I have booked you into the Hilton.” Griselda continued my plan to silence her clearly failed.

The novelty of the Virgin Australia lounge at Melbourne airport was beginning to wear off now. It was just a very large bright barn. To be fair it wasn’t overcrowded so I could at least find a quiet spot to relax.


The "Barn" at Melbourne Airport

“Ms Pugh, I would like a ham, cheese and tomato sandwich, with egg mayonnaise, salt and pepper please” I was using the new fangled wireless phone to pass on my request.

“Mr Hancock, the Virgin lounge isn’t like the Concorde Room, you have to go and make the sandwich yourself.” Griselda sighed as she spoke.

“Make it myself?????” I was at my pompous best now.

“Yes” was the rather terse reply.

Griselda would be writing a stern letter to the beardy bloke in Blighty about this. Whatever next? Would I have to fly the aeroplane as well? Airlines were losing sight of what is important in this world.

At least Virgin had a premium exit for the lounge so that I did not have to queue with the great unwashed to get to the aeroplane.

I pride myself on my powers of observation and after arriving at the gate I noticed something was amiss. The crew was certainly there, as were lots of badly dressed passengers. Mmmm now what was missing. A brief saunter down the concourse and it soon became apparent that the aeroplane was not there.


"One of our aircraft is missing" (One for the teenagers there.)

“Ms Pugh, there doesn’t seem to be an aeroplane to take me to Brisbane, can you sort it out? I hoped Griselda could get things back under control.

“Apparently it is late arriving from Adelaide?” she advised me after what seemed like an eternity.

“Adelaide? Adelaide? What on earth has my aeroplane been doing in Adelaide?” I was incredulous. “You’ll need to add this to the list in the letter to the beardy bloke”

Virgin Australia has an excellent track record of getting important people like me on to the aeroplane quickly, and today was no exception. It is always a delight to watch the normal passengers get turned away. It is one of the reasons I like to get to the gate area early.

The drop in standards was not confined to the lounge. I was presented with a “Vietnamese Chicken Wrap” meal, which required my input to complete it. My first concern was that the bread was totally flat, I had not seen such a thing before. After I received confirmation that this was correct the rather lovely customer service manager explained that the bread was used to wrap the chicken and salad.


"DIY" meal

So now I was making my own sandwiches on the aeroplane. Pfffft. Beardy man would be hearing about this.

Fortunately a bottle of St Hallett Claret got me through the journey, but it was touch and go at one stage.


"Brisbane Ahoy"

Griselda had convinced me that the train was the “best” means of transport to the centre of Brisbane. I think she meant quickest because best to me does not involve graffiti and sweaty oiks.

After some initial confusion the front desk staff member at the Hilton understood that when I book a King Room I do not expect a twin, and I headed off to the 20[SUP]th[/SUP] Floor.

There has been no drop in standards at the Executive Lounge where each and every member of staff does their upmost to provide excellent service. It has been like that for a while now, but I do wonder how long before the cancerous modern world eats into this exemplary customer service. My glass was filled at regular intervals and food served to me upon request.


At least standards are being maintained at the Brisbane Hilton Executive Lounge.

After a rather long day of meetings the Virgin Premium Entry was a welcome relief from the hustle and bustle of the main terminal. I waited patiently as the, presumably, new staff member battled with the computer thingy in an attempt to get me on to an aeroplane two hours earlier than Griselda had booked. He was eventually successful but “Full Catering” might not be available. I wondered what this meant? Would I actually have to slaughter a chicken, pluck it, cook it and then serve it to myself?

As it turned out I was offered a “Peri Peri” chicken sandwich, which was already made and required no preparation from me. This was apparently an “economy class”, whatever that is, meal. I smiled to myself as the chap next to me struggled to make sandwiches from the flat bread, chicken and salad, whilst wondering why the same meal was being served as yesterday. :shock:

I was delighted to finally get home where I would spend nine nights before I would be heading back to Blighty with Qantas to Bangkok and Etihad the rest of the way.

TTFN

 

[njba]

Looks like someone took a nibble out of that lime wedge. On board QC?

 

[Simo]

I always do like the BNE Hilton Exec lounge.

 

[TonyHancock]

“Explain again how this all works!” I was quiet, yet firm with Griselda.

“You disembark in Bangkok and once through immigration and customs you need to find the escalators down and use the tunnel under the car park to get to the Novotel.” Griselda respond, less quietly and more firmly.

“So I a have to stay in Bangkok for the night?” I already knew the answer but was hoping my question might elicit a response detailing why I had to stay in Bangkok.

“Yes” was the somewhat abrupt response which didn’t really answer the question I should have asked.

“Why?” I finally got round to asking.

“Well……………blah, blah, blah,” it went on and on and on.

Something about nesting, cheap flights from Asia, maintaining a platinum virgin (I wished I’d listened a bot harder on the latter it might be interesting.

“Ms Pugh” I interjected

“Yes Mr Hancock.” She snarled.

“Have you sorted business class out for me up to Bangkok and back?” I asked

“It is not as simple as that” came the curt response. “With Qantas you have to wait until two days, at best, before the flight for confirmation now that you are like all the other flyers”

“Like all the other flyers?” I was in a state of shock as I questioned this.

“Sadly you are no longer a Platinum One Frequent Flyer with Qantas, you have dropped down to Platinum like all of the other members of the program.” Griselda was visibly shaking as she passed on this little snippet.

“You mean I am not important any more?” I was incandescent.

“Of course you are important Mr Hancock, but I am afraid only as important as just about everyone else in the Qantas Frequent Flyer Program.”

“What about the Concorde Room?” I asked in desperation.

“You can still use that, British Airways thinks you are quite important, but on this trip you will be flying Etihad” There was definitely an air of smugness in Griselda’s voice.

I put on my best superior voice and asked. “What on earth is Etihad?”

“Etihad is an airline based in the United Arab Emirates and senior management at Virgin Australia is under the delusion that they have some sort of arrangement with them.” Griselda appeared to be very knowledgeable about this. “You need a further 130 Status Credits with Virgin Australia so that you can keep your platinum status…………….remember? I did tell you all of this about five minutes ago.”

My head hurt now. I really didn’t want to go to Blighty so soon after my last trip. This would be my ninth trip in this year of hell. Yet another night at the Holiday Inn at Melbourne Airport, and they rarely knew who I was. Then it would be another early flight to the utterly awful city of Sydney, a ride on a livestock truck, half an hour in a lounge infested with Qantas Platinum Frequent Flyers, and finally only if I was lucky a seat in Business Class. I can only wonder what I have done to offend the gods of travel. :?:

To top it all everywhere I looked there was “The Olympics”. I couldn’t help thinking that it had become overhyped with far too many events. “Beach Volleyball?” Really! What next “Swimming backwards” or “skateboarding”?*

Not only was the whole spectacle jam-packed with ludicrous events even the proper events were becoming boring. It was at that point I hit upon a brilliant idea. :idea: Why not merge events? The 100 yard dash combined with rifle shooting would be far more interesting with runners having to duck and weave to avoid being shot. More interesting for the shooters too, no boring still targets to fire at. This had more legs in it, what about combining celebrity TV with Olympic events. For a start who wouldn’t pay to watch “Skeeting up with The Kardashians”, yes, skeet shooting combined with, well, The Kardashians obviously. There was probably only one series in this despite the family’s propensity to breed.

I’m digressing again, although I do feel that the way Griselda organises my travel each and every trip becomes an Olympic endurance event. My first challenge was to get past the “Other” Tony Hancock hurdle at The Holiday inn at Melbourne Airport.

Surprisingly the front desk knew who I was, but sadly not enough to get me an Executive Room on the top floor.

“……but it is nearly midnight Ms Pugh!” I had only just dozed off when my portable phone thingy rang.

“I thought you would like to know Mr Hancock, your upgrade has come through” She responded

“Come through what?” I was tired.

“Qantas has approved your request and you will be in Business Class to Bangkok.”

“OK” was all I could manage.

With a two-hour layover, and livestock transportation at Sydney I would not have much time for breakfast at Australia’s very own third world city, and so it was to prove.
Nestor welcomed me to the First Class lounge but there were no tables available in any of the three school cafeterias, and I was left with the indignity of consuming my egg benedict from a side table. As expected the lounge was infested by Qantas platinum frequent flyers.


With a decent demolition team I could do wonders with Sydney.

Sadly, the time may have come to move on to the American Express Lounge for future visits.

“Ms Pugh?” I was finding a use for the portable wireless phone she had provided for me. “There is a problem with the aeroplane, the seats are not those fancy new fangled suites that I like.”

“Oh yes I forgot to tell you that the aircraft was one of the older one that hadn’t been refitted, it must have slipped my mind” Griselda lied.



I prepared myself for the worst, but was pleasantly surprised by the menu. It looked as though Qantas had taken on a proper chef rather than Fred Perry. The poached chicken salad was very good, and the spatchcock quite excellent.



The staff at the Bangkok Airport Novotel knew who I was, escorting me to the business/executive lounge to check in.

“Thank you for your loyalty, we have upgraded you to a junior suite” The rather attractive young lady advised me.

“Thank you” I responded, although I did wonder why the presidential suite had not been made available.



The executive lounge at least provided a decent self-service spirits section and sensing I had perhaps overdone the wine of the flight in I helped myself to a couple of very large G&T’s to help me sleep.

TTFN

*Griselda informs me that swimming backwards is, in fact, already an Olympic even, and skateboarding will become one in 2020. :shock:..............I can only wonder what has become of the world.

 

[JohnM]

...and livestock transportation at Sydney...

Never fear, a new and vastly improved version that I discovered QF secretly testing in Madagascar will soon be here. :shock::mrgreen:

 

[alieninperth]

You may, or may not, depending on your view of the use of guns, be happy to know that the Olympics do indeed have an event that combines running and shooting. The last event of the modern pentathlon combines running (4km run in laps with shooting at targets between laps). The only problem is that they use laser pistols, rather than real guns.

Given two of the other sports in the modern pentathlon are showjumping and fencing, I'm not really sure how 'modern' it really is.

 

[andye]

You may, or may not, depending on your view of the use of guns, be happy to know that the Olympics do indeed have an event that combines running and shooting. The last event of the modern pentathlon combines running (4km run in laps with shooting at targets between laps). The only problem is that they use laser pistols, rather than real guns.

Given two of the other sports in the modern pentathlon are showjumping and fencing, I'm not really sure how 'modern' it really is.

I think it's modern compared to the ancient games (where they all competed starkers)

 

[TonyHancock]

[FONT=&amp] “Ms Pugh, this is hopeless” I had made a reverse charge call to my secretary.
[/FONT]
[FONT=&amp]“Why?” was the best she could do.
[/FONT]
[FONT=&amp]“The queues for Etihad’s Business Class check in are terribly (I think I said terribly) long”
[/FONT]
[FONT=&amp]“Mr Hancock, I am afraid there is little I could do about it” [/FONT]

[FONT=&amp]I wondered what I paid Griselda for.
[/FONT]
[FONT=&amp]After, what seemed like a lifetime, I was finally able to check in, but the check in queues had nothing on the alleged “priority” security and outbound immigration queues. I spotted the problem early on and realised that had I dressed as a pilot I too could have joined the 63 airline crew members that were able to bypass me in the queue.[/FONT]
[FONT=&amp]Things didn’t improve with the lounge at Bangkok airport, which Griselda informed me was something called a “contract lounge”.

If I was the CEO of Etihad I’d break that contract and build a proper lounge. I made a note so that Griselda could follow this up with whoever was in charge of this Etihad mob. [/FONT]

[FONT=&amp]At least Etihad was serious about priority boarding and moved the riff raff out of the way to allow me to get to my seat early.
[/FONT]
[FONT=&amp]The seat was rather nice, and private, it lacked some decent storage space, but on the whole was a step up from business class seat on the big Qantas plane and better than the British Airways business class seat on all of its aeroplanes…and not a single Falcon to be seen.


[/FONT]
[FONT=&amp]“I think a Gin & Tonic will do the job thank you” I addressed the stewardess prior to take off.
[/FONT]
[FONT=&amp]“…and I’ll go for the grilled prawns followed by the beef.” I continued. “Oh and I’ll be working my way through the wine list”.
[/FONT]
[FONT=&amp]Warm nuts were a bit of a bonus, as was the speed of service. My G&T was with me within minutes of take-off, and lunch followed shortly after.
[/FONT]
[FONT=&amp]No Fred Perry mush here either, the food was quite excellent, and the wine passable. I particularly enjoyed the rather decent fillet steak. The apple crumble, was both unexpected and marvellous. I could get used to this Etihad malarkey.


[/FONT]
[FONT=&amp]Just prior to arrival I was handed a small card with the details of my next flight, including the gate number, and thanks to Griselda’s extensive, although subsequently incorrect, briefing notes I resolved to head to the lounge nearest the gates.
[/FONT]
[FONT=&amp]“You are, of course, welcome here, but as a Virgin Platinum member you can use the First Class Lounge” the lounge desk lady advised me.
[/FONT]
[FONT=&amp]Pfft Griselda had given me duff information and sent me on a wild goose chase, and not for the first time I might add. This would go on the list for discussion at her appraisal.
[/FONT]
[FONT=&amp]The trek to the First Class Lounge was arduous, it involved an assault course through Duty Free, and a battle against a tidal wave of passengers heading to their gates.


[/FONT]Virgin Australia makes it on the list!
[FONT=&amp]
The lounge was everything the Qantas First Class Lounge at Sydney wasn’t, luxurious, exclusive and very, very quiet. I wondered where the hordes of Etihad “Platinum” frequent flyers were as I sat in joyous peace and quiet sipping a large G&T.



I had eaten too much on board my inbound flight to partake of the dining facilities, I won’t make that mistake again.


This is what non Fred Perry First Class lounge dining looks like if anyone from Qantas is reading.
[/FONT]
[FONT=&amp]Sadly, Griselda had arranged an all to brief stay at Abu Dhabi and it was with regret I left the First Class Lounge to head to my boarding gate, and my onward flight to London.
[/FONT]
[FONT=&amp]Up next: Etihad most definitely knew who I am.
[/FONT]
[FONT=&amp]TTFN[/FONT]

 

[Simo]

I am enjoying reading your trials and tribulation of your year of travel