Wednesday, 21 November 2012
Darling, only ten kilos? Surely not.
I'm digressing from planning the next UK trip.
Wouldn't it be just so wonderful to turn up at Carcassonne airport looking like this instead of wearing all your week's clothes in order to be able to board your toothbrush and iPad in your Ryanair luggage allowance.
Actually I'm not really complaining . . . much. It is incredible that I can get to Stansted airport quicker than driving to Montpellier, and that it costs less than the train fare from said airport to my Mum's in Dorset. I don't care that the food is overpriced and horrible, and that they make you buy water rather than allowing you to carry on your own bottle. Just bring a banana and drink a lot before you go through customs.
I don't even care about the bloody smug: TANTARA, you have arrived on yet another on-time flight, (howls of derisive laughter).
I notice they don't have a funereal violin version for: You have arrived slightly behind schedule and will now have to sit on the runway while people waving orange plastic sticks on the runway decide what the Hell is going on.
The Ryanair booking site is getting longer each time I go on it:
Do you want to buy a special bag? No.
Do you want to book a car? No.
Do you want to take our travel insurance? No.
Think carefully here, you might avoid terrible injury, malaise or possible death . . . do you want to take our travel insurance? No
Really? YES I'm sure.
OK, do you want to book a hotel? No.
Do you want to book a sandwich/ sex with an attractive flight attendant/last rites with a certified priest? NO.
OK, continue: Oops, sorry your session has timed out.
Despite all the petty moaning about our favourite cheap airline, what would we do without this luxury. Life would be very much more complicated. 'Profitez' as the French say. I can't see this form of travel continuing for too many years . . .