Budget
airlines sell millions of tickets despite the miserable customer experience
they inflict. They succeed because they provide cheap and frequent travel to
places we want to go to - and even to places we didn't know we wanted to go to
until they started landing there. Many a town with ambition to reinvent itself
as a tourist destination has extended its runway to accommodate the airbuses.
With our
journey to Nice imminent, I thought it best to check the travel documents - you
can't be too careful when flying Squeezyjet in case an unwitting infringement
of the rules makes you liable for a penalty payment exceeding the original cost
of the flight. Sure enough, when it came to the cabin baggage, I found that the
overall dimensions specified (including wheels and handles) were slightly less
than those of the cases specially bought for our last flight. It was necessary
to go out and buy even more bags to add to our collection and, at this time of
year with the shops being well stocked with luggage, I anticipated no
difficulty. But there was too much choice and when I eventually came across
cabin cases labelled "approved by all
airlines" I discovered they were actually five centimetres longer than
Squeezyjet's specification. I begin to suspect that the airlines have
shareholdings in luggage manufacturers.
I remember
when suitcases didn't have wheels (porters were plentiful then) but now even
the tiniest, lightest ones are fitted with them. It occurred to me that a
better option might be a couple of rucksacks since they don't have protruding
wheels and they can be expanded or contracted truly to suit all airlines. Rucksack design has come a
long way since the canvas and buckled leather originals seen strapped on the
backs of ruddy-cheeked youths hiking across the unspoilt English countryside of
the 1950s. Now there are nifty designs for specific uses: going to school,
commuting with a lap-top, cycling, running etc., so eventually I found one
suitable for my purpose. Nevertheless, despite the ingenuity of the design, I
wished nostalgically for a simple, old-fashioned duffel bag. It would have suited
my purpose admirably.
I stashed
the fancy new rucksacks inside the too-big cabin cases and dug out the tatty
old hiking rucksacks: we were off to the Lake District for a walk. The forecast
was for fair weather and it's been a while since we did anything strenuous so
we set our sights on England's fourth highest peak, Skiddaw. The good thing
about Skiddaw - on a clear day - is that no map-reading skill is required: the
path is well-trodden and visible ahead for most of the way. The bad thing about
Skiddaw - regardless of the weather - is that the descent is relentlessly steep
and treacherous. Walking poles can alleviate the pressure on leg muscles but
since we had left them at home we suffered the consequence - sore thighs for
the following three days.
The day
after summiting we made our way to the coast for a spot of R&R. We visited Whitehaven,
once an important port where ships loaded the locally mined coal. Evidence of the
wealth generated by that commercial enterprise is to be found by looking up at
the older, grander buildings. But, with eyes at street level, it is hard to see
beyond the impoverishment of the contemporary inhabitants and their failing
infrastructure. Some money has been found to prettify the harbour and re-fit it
as a marina, to fund a museum and to lay acres of fancy block paving but, on
that sunny Sunday morning, the only establishments open were a local newsagent,
the Costa coffee shop and the monster Wetherspoons pub. Most of the berths at
the marina were vacant.
If they are
serious about reinventing their town as a tourist destination, maybe they
should start talking to Squeezyjet.
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