2016 The Hancock Year of Hell
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NZflygirl
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Side question re: this plane but did they paint more than one like this? I was in MEL and noticed it take off - twice! I had a reasonable layover close to 4 I think due to delays. Too far away to look at rego's.
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Best not to mention the real name of "The Club" ... being of Fraincis origin.
OATEK
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There are several 737s painted in retro livery, but not the same livery. One is the all maroon and white, and another with the thick orange strip as well.
TonyHancock
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“….but I have traveled many times with that particular full stainless steel product weighing several KG’s and resembling the shape of an axe” I heard myself say.
“This could be used as an offensive weapon and I could lose my job if I allow you airside” the simpleton jobs worth continued to bait me.
I called Griselda from my hand held telephonic device and once she had answered passed the new fangled gadget to a chappie from Virgin Australia, It seemed an appropriate time to retire to the bar whilst the mess was sorted out.
“Mr Hancock, you will need to come with me!” The chappie seemed to be making progress, or so I thought.
“We have moved you to later flights and you will need to check the item in” He continued.
This was a new experience for me; Griselda handled all this sort of thing. I wasn’t actually sure what checking in meant, but it involved heading out of the lounge, which was a bit annoying.
“When you say later flights?” I queried, fearing the answer.
“You should get into Mackay at 9:45 PM” came the response.
This was not going well for me. I knew Mackay was somewhere warm and a seaside town and had assumed Griselda had organised my flights to ensure a couple of G&T’s before dinner at the resort. Arriving at quarter to ten was not conducive to these arrangements.
My mood did not improve upon arriving in Brisbane. The virgin Australia Lounge made the Qantas First Class lounges look like the lobbies of three star hotels. I don’t think I have ever seen so many people in a single room, even if it was the size of a barn. Even worse was the lack of gin. Was this the beginning of the end for civilisation?
As we approached Mackay I could see the flickering lights of a large resort. It was larger than I expected but nevertheless it would provide a welcome break from usual Hiltons and Intercontinentals.
The resort looked beautiful at night.
“You’ll have a car waiting for me” I said as I handed my driving license to the lady at the Avis desk.
“I can’t find you on the list” came the curt reply.
“mmmmmm” was about the best I could do.
How was I to know that Avis, like Budget and Hertz hadn’t had any cars available and Griselda had booked with Europcar? She should know I never read the itinerary she provides me.
As I walked to the car park to take photographs of my transport from every available angle, (I had a Perth Scam attempt a couple of years ago), I thought I’d better check how long it would take me to get to the resort Griselda had booked for me.
Yes Europcar I have to take pictures of wheels to stop you scamming me.
It was dark and I was in desperate need of a Gin & Tonic. I headed over to the tall(ish) well-lit building near the car park to study Griselda’s itinerary. It was at that moment the full horror of Griselda’s planning struck me. She had booked me into the Ibis hotel at the airport. I was frozen in fear for more than a minute as my mind flashed back to the Formule One in Bela Horizonte all those years ago. I prayed for carpet in my room.
At best one could swing a smallish cat, perhaps a Cornish Rex, around the room. I can’t imagine two people actually sharing a room. Perhaps the biggest relief was that the room had an en suite bathroom. The prospect of walking down a corridor to a shared bathroom to complete my morning ablutions fills me with dread.
Things didn’t look any better in daylight, which for some odd reason makes an appearance in the middle of the night in Mackay.
The view is bad enough without fire training
I couldn’t face breakfast at the hotel and stopped at a Scottish restaurant en route to my meeting. It was a strange place serving breakfast delights such as bacon and eggs in two pieces of cardboard masquerading as an English Muffin. (I didn’t have the time to thoroughly check the heritage but it did not taste like anything I have eaten in England.) The restaurant was owned by The McDonald clan who presumably fled to Australia after a damned good thrashing at Culloden.
My meeting finished early and a mad dash to the airport saw me at the head of the priority line at somewhere called check in. Griselda had suggested I check my luggage in to avoid the problems at Melbourne.
“I’d like to move to an earlier flight please” I said handing my Platinum Card to the check in lady.
“Everyone is trying to do that today” She responded without looking at me.
“My secretary informs me that there is full availability in business class” I advised helpfully.
“Let me check” she responded whilst taking a phone call. “Yes I can move you to an earlier flight and also get you an earlier connection from Brisbane to Melbourne.”
“Thank you, could you secure seat 2C for me please”
“mmmm seating might be a problem” she looked at me with a quizzical expression.
“but my secretary tells me all seats are available.” I hoped Griselda had not made yet another cough up.
“We are expecting four or five VIP’s to arrive” She seemed to be serious.
I resisted the temptation to tell her that I was more VIP than anyone else likely to arrive at Mackay…probably ever!! She relented and I had my preferred seat.
I sat in the lounge wondering who these VIP’s were. Would I be able to enjoy my flight in peace or would I be bored senseless by some C list celebrities wittering on about other C list celebrities?
As Griselda had predicted the business class cabin was empty, apart from me, so I can only assume the check in agent was some sort of psychotic fantasist.
The resort I had seen the previous night from the plane looked a little dilapidated in the daylight, and remarkably black. I wondered if it was volcanic rock like the beaches in Tenerife.
I could only wonder what amusements awaited at the end of the piers.
The flight from Brisbane to Melbourne was uneventful, apart from being offered Mrs Mangle’s Thai Pumpkin curry soup, with prawns, for the third flight in two days.
I'll have the Thai Curry Pumpkin Soup then....yet again.
The drive home, even at 8 PM, provided sufficient time to think up more medieval tortures for state politicians and urban planners.
My final trip of the year begins soon, the eleventh this year. No doubt Griselda has some particular treats in store for me.
TTFN
“This could be used as an offensive weapon and I could lose my job if I allow you airside” the simpleton jobs worth continued to bait me.
I called Griselda from my hand held telephonic device and once she had answered passed the new fangled gadget to a chappie from Virgin Australia, It seemed an appropriate time to retire to the bar whilst the mess was sorted out.
“Mr Hancock, you will need to come with me!” The chappie seemed to be making progress, or so I thought.
“We have moved you to later flights and you will need to check the item in” He continued.
This was a new experience for me; Griselda handled all this sort of thing. I wasn’t actually sure what checking in meant, but it involved heading out of the lounge, which was a bit annoying.
“When you say later flights?” I queried, fearing the answer.
“You should get into Mackay at 9:45 PM” came the response.
This was not going well for me. I knew Mackay was somewhere warm and a seaside town and had assumed Griselda had organised my flights to ensure a couple of G&T’s before dinner at the resort. Arriving at quarter to ten was not conducive to these arrangements.
My mood did not improve upon arriving in Brisbane. The virgin Australia Lounge made the Qantas First Class lounges look like the lobbies of three star hotels. I don’t think I have ever seen so many people in a single room, even if it was the size of a barn. Even worse was the lack of gin. Was this the beginning of the end for civilisation?
As we approached Mackay I could see the flickering lights of a large resort. It was larger than I expected but nevertheless it would provide a welcome break from usual Hiltons and Intercontinentals.
The resort looked beautiful at night.
“You’ll have a car waiting for me” I said as I handed my driving license to the lady at the Avis desk.
“I can’t find you on the list” came the curt reply.
“mmmmmm” was about the best I could do.
How was I to know that Avis, like Budget and Hertz hadn’t had any cars available and Griselda had booked with Europcar? She should know I never read the itinerary she provides me.
As I walked to the car park to take photographs of my transport from every available angle, (I had a Perth Scam attempt a couple of years ago), I thought I’d better check how long it would take me to get to the resort Griselda had booked for me.
Yes Europcar I have to take pictures of wheels to stop you scamming me.
It was dark and I was in desperate need of a Gin & Tonic. I headed over to the tall(ish) well-lit building near the car park to study Griselda’s itinerary. It was at that moment the full horror of Griselda’s planning struck me. She had booked me into the Ibis hotel at the airport. I was frozen in fear for more than a minute as my mind flashed back to the Formule One in Bela Horizonte all those years ago. I prayed for carpet in my room.
At best one could swing a smallish cat, perhaps a Cornish Rex, around the room. I can’t imagine two people actually sharing a room. Perhaps the biggest relief was that the room had an en suite bathroom. The prospect of walking down a corridor to a shared bathroom to complete my morning ablutions fills me with dread.
Things didn’t look any better in daylight, which for some odd reason makes an appearance in the middle of the night in Mackay.
The view is bad enough without fire training
I couldn’t face breakfast at the hotel and stopped at a Scottish restaurant en route to my meeting. It was a strange place serving breakfast delights such as bacon and eggs in two pieces of cardboard masquerading as an English Muffin. (I didn’t have the time to thoroughly check the heritage but it did not taste like anything I have eaten in England.) The restaurant was owned by The McDonald clan who presumably fled to Australia after a damned good thrashing at Culloden.
My meeting finished early and a mad dash to the airport saw me at the head of the priority line at somewhere called check in. Griselda had suggested I check my luggage in to avoid the problems at Melbourne.
“I’d like to move to an earlier flight please” I said handing my Platinum Card to the check in lady.
“Everyone is trying to do that today” She responded without looking at me.
“My secretary informs me that there is full availability in business class” I advised helpfully.
“Let me check” she responded whilst taking a phone call. “Yes I can move you to an earlier flight and also get you an earlier connection from Brisbane to Melbourne.”
“Thank you, could you secure seat 2C for me please”
“mmmm seating might be a problem” she looked at me with a quizzical expression.
“but my secretary tells me all seats are available.” I hoped Griselda had not made yet another cough up.
“We are expecting four or five VIP’s to arrive” She seemed to be serious.
I resisted the temptation to tell her that I was more VIP than anyone else likely to arrive at Mackay…probably ever!!
She relented and I had my preferred seat.I sat in the lounge wondering who these VIP’s were. Would I be able to enjoy my flight in peace or would I be bored senseless by some C list celebrities wittering on about other C list celebrities?
As Griselda had predicted the business class cabin was empty, apart from me, so I can only assume the check in agent was some sort of psychotic fantasist.
The resort I had seen the previous night from the plane looked a little dilapidated in the daylight, and remarkably black. I wondered if it was volcanic rock like the beaches in Tenerife.
I could only wonder what amusements awaited at the end of the piers.
The flight from Brisbane to Melbourne was uneventful, apart from being offered Mrs Mangle’s Thai Pumpkin curry soup, with prawns, for the third flight in two days.
I'll have the Thai Curry Pumpkin Soup then....yet again.
The drive home, even at 8 PM, provided sufficient time to think up more medieval tortures for state politicians and urban planners.
My final trip of the year begins soon, the eleventh this year. No doubt Griselda has some particular treats in store for me.
TTFN
TheRealTMA
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Just give a thought to those unfortunate ex-pollies who are condemned to 10 return trips like this per year for the rest of their life. Shivers...
TonyHancock
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I dislike Christmas, and this year was no exception. Due to a continued misunderstanding I would not be able to have Griselda post on frequent flyer news pages of my contempt for Qantas’ inability to deliver, in a timely manner, an expensive bottle of champagne to me. This was one of the few pleasures I had at Christmas.
Qantas and I, well Griselda, had reached a point of impasse. It appeared that Qantas was not budging in its failure to recognise me as a Platinum One (Is that a thing?), this despite me earning as much as 250 something or others last year, according to Griselda.
As I dictate this to Griselda, on a reverse charge telephone call from the Executive Lounge at the London Heathrow Terminal 4 Hilton Hotel, I am reflecting on my year of travel. (Reflecting is the new big business thing apparently and Griselda has ordered several mirrors so that I will be well prepared.)
The flights to London had followed a well practised pattern, Melbourne to Singapore and 5 hours in the Concorde Bar. Singapore to London, Heathrow and a traditional English breakfast in the Concorde Room. Then to finish a baffling jaunt up to Norway and back. It appeared, much like Fred Perry’s day menu into Asia I was stuck in a time warp. (There are only so many occasions one can consume crumbed pork on an aeroplane, although the Penfold’s Bin 28 was quite acceptable.)
This trip was a little longer than most and included four days in Berlin - pork, sauerkraut and mashed potato. Those German chaps know how to do proper food and in the sort of quantities that put all of those peddlers of nouveau cuisine to shame. The “Sausage Parade” delivered to my table by a grown man in shorts was nothing short of spectacular, if not a little odd.
I still didn't really understand why I had to keep flying to Stavanger, Oslo and Bergen.
Griselda had booked me into the Hilton in Berlin and standards had dropped. There was a time in the not too distant past when “happy hour” delivered tiny pizzas and mini hamburgers, but not now. Mozzerella sticks and soup did not cut it, although the spirits selection was more than adequate. The breakfasts were OK although the scrambled eggs verged on the stodgy.
“Miss Pugh” I was breathless. “My meeting has finished early and I need you to get me on an earlier flight please.”
“...but...but it is 10 PM here Mr Hancock” She spat the words out.
“mmmm then you need to get a move on if I am going to get the next flight.” I thought, but was not brave enough to say.
I waited for what seemed an eternity for Griselda to call back, but she had been able to change my flight. The bad news was that it was to cost me 60 Pounds.
“Mr Hancock it is should have cost over 200 pounds but because you are a GGL British Airways made an exception.” …….was the excuse she came up with.
I didn’t say anything and resolved to deduct the 60 pounds from her Christmas Bonus. I am not sure what had come over me and it took me 24 hours to realise that I didn’t pay her a Christmas Bonus.
My colleagues were not so fortunate and I left them in the British Airways Lounge partaking of the curled up sandwiches drinking flat Coca Cola.
The inflight Cabernet Sauvignon improved with each small bottle to the point that bottle number five reminded me of a Wolf Blass Yellow Label.
I was a dab hand at the old Bergen run now. Exit the plane, head left and wait. Usually boarding commenced within a few minutes. This time something was not quite right, a rather dapper chap in a cap came from the plane and took over the microphone.
“Due to heavy fog at Heathrow the flight will be delayed by four hours. Our best opportunity for an earlier departure is to board now and hope the weather improves” He explained.
Well to say I was miffed was an understatement. Had I realised it was an open microphone I would have grabbed my opportunity much earlier than the chap in the cap. I would have been a much better act than this amateur. Obviously I made a reverse charge call to Griselda and instructed her to raise a letter of complaint about the microphone and also ensure a martini would be awaiting me in the Concorde Room when I finally arrived.
My view for three hours at Bergen.
I had no idea why so many passengers on the aeroplane were complaining. At first I thought I had been booked onto a Qantas Platinum type charter flight. I settled into seat 1A and set my little TV up on the centre console. BA’s Gold Guest List team takes a different approach, to the Qantas Platinum One team and try to block seats next to me. For this flight seat 1C was suitably empty. It was all rather civilised once the wine arrived, although the constant whinging from the rear of the cabin was annoying, although not quite as annoying as the stream of economy passengers trampling through the business section heading to the business class toilet. This is one area of common ground for me with the Qantas Platinum types who are keenly opposed to this.
It was almost cozy being on the ground for three hours.
Lucilla was on top form in the Concorde Room and mixed me three rather decent dry martinis before I headed off to board my flight to Hong Kong.
“You are very lucky tonight.” the chappie scanning boarding passes said as he handed me a new boarding pass.
I resisted the temptation to advise him that it was my importance, rather than luck, that had led to a seat reassignment of 3A and my rightful place in the First Class cabin.
BA Knows Who I Am
Earlier in the year Griselda had tried to explain the British Airways cabin crew setup. If the air hostesses were wearing hats I could expect enthusiastic but relatively poor service, and if they weren’t it would be grumpy but professional service. She had wittered on about that not working on the A380 where everyone wore hats. As I boarded I noticed a distinct lack of air hostess headgear so braced myself for the worst. Surprisingly the crew members were quite chirpy and not at all grumpy, in fact they were quite excellent.. Something else Griselda had got wrong.
We were over an hour late departing Heathrow airport thanks to two passengers who had not boarded. Now I can be forgetful occasionally but I am relatively confident that once at an airport I would be unlikely to forget I was flying somewhere. Even after six small bottles of Chilean Claret and half a bottle of gin I managed to get to the correct gate on time. (hic)
Thanks to the missing passengers we arrived over an hour late at Hong Kong Airport and this put my next flight at risk. Griselda had sent a telex, or whatever the new fangled equivalent is, showing that the Gold Guest List team had been busy and already had me on standby for three other flights, although one was, worryingly, in economy with Qantas. I can only shudder at the thought of the Fred Perry economy supper menu. :shock:
As I departed the plane I was greeted by a young lady who was to guide me to my connecting Cathay Pacific flight to Melbourne. What I didn’t realise is that she had the capabilities of an Olympic sprinter. There is nothing less dignified than running through an airport, particularly one as large as Hong Kong. I tried to explain that I was important and that the captain would wait but she was having none of it as she practically dragged me through security and onto the train.
As predicted the captain had decided to delay boarding until my arrival so at least I did not have to run down the aerobridge.
I lose track of who’s who when I fly with Cathay Pacific, the cabin crew wear so many different uniforms it is difficult to know who is the senior person that should be dealing with me. I was, however, so pleased not to be flying Qantas because I had skipped breakfast on the inbound flight, so a Fred Perry “supper” would just no cut it at all. Cathay did not disappoint and the chicken was very good, washed down with the full-bodied Rockbare McLaren Vale Shiraz. The cheese selection needed a mature cheddar but on the whole Griselda’s selection of Cathay over Qantas was the correct decision.
The rock bare shiraz was actually rather spiffing.
After a 95 minute battle with the Melbourne traffic I was finally home and my year of hell was at an end. Next year will be no where near as hectic as 2016, although Griselda has booked three trips to the UK already and will add a fourth in a weeks or so. I am also supposed to be heading to San Diego, which I assume is somewhere in South America, unless I can avoid it.
Griselda is attempting to put some statistics together but this is taking longer than usual because of the complex calculations surrounding self-funded travel. Apparently according to the Qantas Platinum brigade a mile flown that is not self-funded is significantly shorter than one that is self-funded, as much as 99% shorter, so it is looking like I have only flown 8 miles this year. It is strange because it has felt as though it was much further.
TTFN
Qantas and I, well Griselda, had reached a point of impasse. It appeared that Qantas was not budging in its failure to recognise me as a Platinum One (Is that a thing?), this despite me earning as much as 250 something or others last year, according to Griselda.
As I dictate this to Griselda, on a reverse charge telephone call from the Executive Lounge at the London Heathrow Terminal 4 Hilton Hotel, I am reflecting on my year of travel. (Reflecting is the new big business thing apparently and Griselda has ordered several mirrors so that I will be well prepared.)
The flights to London had followed a well practised pattern, Melbourne to Singapore and 5 hours in the Concorde Bar. Singapore to London, Heathrow and a traditional English breakfast in the Concorde Room. Then to finish a baffling jaunt up to Norway and back. It appeared, much like Fred Perry’s day menu into Asia I was stuck in a time warp. (There are only so many occasions one can consume crumbed pork on an aeroplane, although the Penfold’s Bin 28 was quite acceptable.)
This trip was a little longer than most and included four days in Berlin - pork, sauerkraut and mashed potato. Those German chaps know how to do proper food and in the sort of quantities that put all of those peddlers of nouveau cuisine to shame. The “Sausage Parade” delivered to my table by a grown man in shorts was nothing short of spectacular, if not a little odd.
I still didn't really understand why I had to keep flying to Stavanger, Oslo and Bergen.
Griselda had booked me into the Hilton in Berlin and standards had dropped. There was a time in the not too distant past when “happy hour” delivered tiny pizzas and mini hamburgers, but not now. Mozzerella sticks and soup did not cut it, although the spirits selection was more than adequate. The breakfasts were OK although the scrambled eggs verged on the stodgy.
“Miss Pugh” I was breathless. “My meeting has finished early and I need you to get me on an earlier flight please.”
“...but...but it is 10 PM here Mr Hancock” She spat the words out.
“mmmm then you need to get a move on if I am going to get the next flight.” I thought, but was not brave enough to say.
I waited for what seemed an eternity for Griselda to call back, but she had been able to change my flight. The bad news was that it was to cost me 60 Pounds.
“Mr Hancock it is should have cost over 200 pounds but because you are a GGL British Airways made an exception.” …….was the excuse she came up with.
I didn’t say anything and resolved to deduct the 60 pounds from her Christmas Bonus. I am not sure what had come over me and it took me 24 hours to realise that I didn’t pay her a Christmas Bonus.
My colleagues were not so fortunate and I left them in the British Airways Lounge partaking of the curled up sandwiches drinking flat Coca Cola.
The inflight Cabernet Sauvignon improved with each small bottle to the point that bottle number five reminded me of a Wolf Blass Yellow Label.
I was a dab hand at the old Bergen run now. Exit the plane, head left and wait. Usually boarding commenced within a few minutes. This time something was not quite right, a rather dapper chap in a cap came from the plane and took over the microphone.
“Due to heavy fog at Heathrow the flight will be delayed by four hours. Our best opportunity for an earlier departure is to board now and hope the weather improves” He explained.
Well to say I was miffed was an understatement. Had I realised it was an open microphone I would have grabbed my opportunity much earlier than the chap in the cap. I would have been a much better act than this amateur. Obviously I made a reverse charge call to Griselda and instructed her to raise a letter of complaint about the microphone and also ensure a martini would be awaiting me in the Concorde Room when I finally arrived.
My view for three hours at Bergen.
I had no idea why so many passengers on the aeroplane were complaining. At first I thought I had been booked onto a Qantas Platinum type charter flight. I settled into seat 1A and set my little TV up on the centre console. BA’s Gold Guest List team takes a different approach, to the Qantas Platinum One team and try to block seats next to me. For this flight seat 1C was suitably empty. It was all rather civilised once the wine arrived, although the constant whinging from the rear of the cabin was annoying, although not quite as annoying as the stream of economy passengers trampling through the business section heading to the business class toilet. This is one area of common ground for me with the Qantas Platinum types who are keenly opposed to this.
It was almost cozy being on the ground for three hours.
Lucilla was on top form in the Concorde Room and mixed me three rather decent dry martinis before I headed off to board my flight to Hong Kong.
“You are very lucky tonight.” the chappie scanning boarding passes said as he handed me a new boarding pass.
I resisted the temptation to advise him that it was my importance, rather than luck, that had led to a seat reassignment of 3A and my rightful place in the First Class cabin.
BA Knows Who I Am
Earlier in the year Griselda had tried to explain the British Airways cabin crew setup. If the air hostesses were wearing hats I could expect enthusiastic but relatively poor service, and if they weren’t it would be grumpy but professional service. She had wittered on about that not working on the A380 where everyone wore hats. As I boarded I noticed a distinct lack of air hostess headgear so braced myself for the worst. Surprisingly the crew members were quite chirpy and not at all grumpy, in fact they were quite excellent.. Something else Griselda had got wrong.
We were over an hour late departing Heathrow airport thanks to two passengers who had not boarded. Now I can be forgetful occasionally but I am relatively confident that once at an airport I would be unlikely to forget I was flying somewhere. Even after six small bottles of Chilean Claret and half a bottle of gin I managed to get to the correct gate on time. (hic)
Thanks to the missing passengers we arrived over an hour late at Hong Kong Airport and this put my next flight at risk. Griselda had sent a telex, or whatever the new fangled equivalent is, showing that the Gold Guest List team had been busy and already had me on standby for three other flights, although one was, worryingly, in economy with Qantas. I can only shudder at the thought of the Fred Perry economy supper menu. :shock:
As I departed the plane I was greeted by a young lady who was to guide me to my connecting Cathay Pacific flight to Melbourne. What I didn’t realise is that she had the capabilities of an Olympic sprinter. There is nothing less dignified than running through an airport, particularly one as large as Hong Kong. I tried to explain that I was important and that the captain would wait but she was having none of it as she practically dragged me through security and onto the train.
As predicted the captain had decided to delay boarding until my arrival so at least I did not have to run down the aerobridge.
I lose track of who’s who when I fly with Cathay Pacific, the cabin crew wear so many different uniforms it is difficult to know who is the senior person that should be dealing with me. I was, however, so pleased not to be flying Qantas because I had skipped breakfast on the inbound flight, so a Fred Perry “supper” would just no cut it at all. Cathay did not disappoint and the chicken was very good, washed down with the full-bodied Rockbare McLaren Vale Shiraz. The cheese selection needed a mature cheddar but on the whole Griselda’s selection of Cathay over Qantas was the correct decision.
The rock bare shiraz was actually rather spiffing.
After a 95 minute battle with the Melbourne traffic I was finally home and my year of hell was at an end. Next year will be no where near as hectic as 2016, although Griselda has booked three trips to the UK already and will add a fourth in a weeks or so. I am also supposed to be heading to San Diego, which I assume is somewhere in South America, unless I can avoid it.
Griselda is attempting to put some statistics together but this is taking longer than usual because of the complex calculations surrounding self-funded travel. Apparently according to the Qantas Platinum brigade a mile flown that is not self-funded is significantly shorter than one that is self-funded, as much as 99% shorter, so it is looking like I have only flown 8 miles this year. It is strange because it has felt as though it was much further.
TTFN
Last edited:
TonyHancock
Senior Member
- Joined
- Aug 26, 2010
- Posts
- 5,645
Griselda couldn't work out the self funded versus non self funded equation, despite me buying her a slide rule, so you'll have to work that out yourselves from the raw data.
Sectors: 138 (First 9, Business 107, Economy 22)
Miles Flown: 340,205
Hours on a Plane: 750:55
Airports: 26
Airlines: 11
Countries:11
Days in Concorde Room: 3.5
Dry Martinis: Less than 150 but more than 100 hic.
Miles Flown by airline:
British Airways 175,064 mi
Qantas Airways 75,057 mi
Singapore Airlines 24,643 mi
Malaysia Airlines 21,050 mi
Virgin Australia 14,420 mi
Etihad Airways 13,043 mi
Cathay Pacific 10,002 mi
China Eastern 2,543 mi
Dragonair 2,541 mi
Shanghai Airlines 1,463 mi
China Southern 377 mi
Qantas Status Credits - 60
Virgin Australia Status Credits - 1,277
British Airways Tier Points - 8005
This year of Hell has been brought to you by Sidney Balmoral James Productions.
Whoops forgot that important bit, 132 sectors for business and 6 self funded.
Sectors: 138 (First 9, Business 107, Economy 22)
Miles Flown: 340,205
Hours on a Plane: 750:55
Airports: 26
Airlines: 11
Countries:11
Days in Concorde Room: 3.5
Dry Martinis: Less than 150 but more than 100 hic.
Miles Flown by airline:
British Airways 175,064 mi
Qantas Airways 75,057 mi
Singapore Airlines 24,643 mi
Malaysia Airlines 21,050 mi
Virgin Australia 14,420 mi
Etihad Airways 13,043 mi
Cathay Pacific 10,002 mi
China Eastern 2,543 mi
Dragonair 2,541 mi
Shanghai Airlines 1,463 mi
China Southern 377 mi
Qantas Status Credits - 60
Virgin Australia Status Credits - 1,277
British Airways Tier Points - 8005
This year of Hell has been brought to you by Sidney Balmoral James Productions.
Whoops forgot that important bit, 132 sectors for business and 6 self funded.
- Joined
- Dec 21, 2012
- Posts
- 5,696
- Qantas
- LT Gold
Another fulfilling read TH. I do so enjoy those productions by Sidney 
. I'm sure the production will be able to "carry on" into 2017 and I am looking forward to reading of the trials and tribulations of your esteemed self, and of course the ever patient Griselda, once more. The question remains, will you be able to beat this year's mammoth effort?
. I'm sure the production will be able to "carry on" into 2017 and I am looking forward to reading of the trials and tribulations of your esteemed self, and of course the ever patient Griselda, once more. The question remains, will you be able to beat this year's mammoth effort?
drron
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I've just finished 2 hours of negotiating with Miss Pugh.She will get her 50 GBP bonus from me and in return I have your 2017 3.5 days in the Concorde room.
She is a hard woman to deal with so you do get to keep all points and status.
Merry Christmas Mr.Hancock.
She is a hard woman to deal with so you do get to keep all points and status.
Merry Christmas Mr.Hancock.
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I am not sure Mr Hancock would agree.
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I would suspect that if there wasn't a 2017 version, we could petition Griselda to book some flights on Tiger. That would sort it.
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