And so a trip to Istanbul. I'd like to say it was going to be an opportunity for mixing business and pleasure but that would be a lie; Fly in, sleep, meet, fly out the order of the day. Not too bad, I thought, I'll be able to fly from Stansted using Pegasus so even on a late flight back I'll be able to get home at a reasonable time; but no, Pegasus fly to the "other" airport at Istanbul, further out from the city and with no public transport links. With British Airways not doing a late flight back and my employer not wanting me waste my time and their money on another hotel night and a day flight, only Turkish Airlines fit the bill. At least they allow preflight seat assignment, so I managed to nab the seat next to my colleague whom I was accompanying on this jaunt, and on line check in 24 hours before was a breeze.
The outbound was a scheduled departure from T2 at 11.20, so there was plenty of time to take the train down from Huntingdon and then catch the Heathrow Express. At £27 for a single journey of 15 minutes, is this the most expensive rail line in the UK? Still, when the company's paying it's preferable to sitting on the Piccadilly Line.
After a walk from the platform that took almost as long as the journey itself, security was quick and easy, with the mobile boarding pass working a treat. The only hiccup was that having haughtily ignored the staff handing out the plastic bags for toiletries, just before lifting my bag onto the security conveyor it dawned on me that I did indeed have toiletries in my hand luggage. Oops. Luckily there was a pile of bags available and somehow the random collection of stuff that I have passed muster.
As no-one had asked me to remove my shoes, I kept them on. The chap in line behind me was clearly and vocally unhappy about this and started on at me to take them off so I wouldn't hold him up. I proceed through the arch with nary a ding. He, shoeless, lit the thing up like a Vegas slot machine in jackpot mode.
One fun thing was that I could use my Priority Pass membership, so wandered off to find the Plaza Premium Lounge, admiring the light and airy terminal which seemed to be quite quiet. In my usual diffident manner I handed the card over, thinking they'd come back with some reason why it wouldn't be valid but no, welcomed in. All set for breakfast, but the deathly pallor of the chicken sausages put me off anything hot and I restricted myself to coffee, apple juice and a couple of teensy weensy croissant. Help yourself papers and soft drinks, work tables and easy chairs, and a bar (open but no takers) it was actually quite comfortable. With decent wifi I got a fair amount of work done before venturing back out to meet my (pass less) colleague and to begin another mammoth trek out to the further reaches of the airport.
There was some confusion at the gate, with the call for business class and status passengers prompting a mad dash by just about everyone. After a lot of shouting and arm waving calm was restored, and then full boarding began with the call for those with the highest row numbers. Bingo! One young man's progress was hindered by being taken off for a quiet word by a plain clothes policeman who was monitoring the flight, but we were on and settled in soon enough.
It being a while since I'd regularly flown economy I'd forgotten what a rigmarole getting into the seat can be, even if once sat down the space is ok. I don't remember that from my EasyJet days, so I presume in days gone by I had developed a routine that made it all as efficient and painless as possible. This time it wasn't, and I made a couple of elementary mistakes that would cause me some issues during flight.
Anyhow, time to have a look around. A 2/4/2 config A330. Seats a bit grubby, but in otherwise reasonable nick and reasonable leg room...until the passenger in front slammed their seat into full recline mode and pretended to be asleep.
Having got used to low cost configuration aircraft - part of the price of opting to fly from Stansted whenever possible - it was a surprise to me to find a fully operational touch screen IFE with a decent range of films, skymap and external camera feeds. Had it not been for having to do some work on the flight the entertainment on offer would have been...well, entertaining....particularly as despite the fact of the flight being almost entirely over the land mass of Europe there was knack all to see except cloud.
Ten minutes late in pushing back, a 15 minute wait on the taxiway (clearly the pilot hadn't done his Istanbul taxi training as otherwise he would simply have pushed his way to the front) and then a long time until the passenger's seat belts signs went off. My colleague moved to another seat so I could then get my laptop out and sit in a rather uncomfortable way to do some work. The crew handed out a lovely pistachio Turkish delight and then, to my surprise, a menu. Opting for the chicken and an Effes, it proved to be very pleasant. Gloop free and with some flavour.
With the remnants of the meal still in place I couldn't work, so moved out to one of the free rows with no-one reclining in front of me and did an hour or so's work. As the Effes caught up with me, I moved back to my original seat, left my laptop out but closed my eyes and drifted away for a wee while. On waking, it was dark and we were into our descent. We hadn't made up much time, so were a few minute late, and with a remote stand / bus combination clearly being the destination I feared this was going to be hours. But not a bit of it. Front and rear steps deployed, we were to the terminal and through passport control in double quick time, defying the predictions of the seasoned traveller telling his mates "at least an hour at passport control, guaranteed".
What did, however, take and hour and change was the trip in the taxi to the hotel. Istanbul ring road. Think the M25 at rush hour, prangs every half a mile, and hawkers wandering up and down the white lines selling bread, cigarettes, water, bananas and pendant light fittings?
The outbound was a scheduled departure from T2 at 11.20, so there was plenty of time to take the train down from Huntingdon and then catch the Heathrow Express. At £27 for a single journey of 15 minutes, is this the most expensive rail line in the UK? Still, when the company's paying it's preferable to sitting on the Piccadilly Line.
After a walk from the platform that took almost as long as the journey itself, security was quick and easy, with the mobile boarding pass working a treat. The only hiccup was that having haughtily ignored the staff handing out the plastic bags for toiletries, just before lifting my bag onto the security conveyor it dawned on me that I did indeed have toiletries in my hand luggage. Oops. Luckily there was a pile of bags available and somehow the random collection of stuff that I have passed muster.
As no-one had asked me to remove my shoes, I kept them on. The chap in line behind me was clearly and vocally unhappy about this and started on at me to take them off so I wouldn't hold him up. I proceed through the arch with nary a ding. He, shoeless, lit the thing up like a Vegas slot machine in jackpot mode.
One fun thing was that I could use my Priority Pass membership, so wandered off to find the Plaza Premium Lounge, admiring the light and airy terminal which seemed to be quite quiet. In my usual diffident manner I handed the card over, thinking they'd come back with some reason why it wouldn't be valid but no, welcomed in. All set for breakfast, but the deathly pallor of the chicken sausages put me off anything hot and I restricted myself to coffee, apple juice and a couple of teensy weensy croissant. Help yourself papers and soft drinks, work tables and easy chairs, and a bar (open but no takers) it was actually quite comfortable. With decent wifi I got a fair amount of work done before venturing back out to meet my (pass less) colleague and to begin another mammoth trek out to the further reaches of the airport.
There was some confusion at the gate, with the call for business class and status passengers prompting a mad dash by just about everyone. After a lot of shouting and arm waving calm was restored, and then full boarding began with the call for those with the highest row numbers. Bingo! One young man's progress was hindered by being taken off for a quiet word by a plain clothes policeman who was monitoring the flight, but we were on and settled in soon enough.
It being a while since I'd regularly flown economy I'd forgotten what a rigmarole getting into the seat can be, even if once sat down the space is ok. I don't remember that from my EasyJet days, so I presume in days gone by I had developed a routine that made it all as efficient and painless as possible. This time it wasn't, and I made a couple of elementary mistakes that would cause me some issues during flight.
Anyhow, time to have a look around. A 2/4/2 config A330. Seats a bit grubby, but in otherwise reasonable nick and reasonable leg room...until the passenger in front slammed their seat into full recline mode and pretended to be asleep.
Having got used to low cost configuration aircraft - part of the price of opting to fly from Stansted whenever possible - it was a surprise to me to find a fully operational touch screen IFE with a decent range of films, skymap and external camera feeds. Had it not been for having to do some work on the flight the entertainment on offer would have been...well, entertaining....particularly as despite the fact of the flight being almost entirely over the land mass of Europe there was knack all to see except cloud.
Ten minutes late in pushing back, a 15 minute wait on the taxiway (clearly the pilot hadn't done his Istanbul taxi training as otherwise he would simply have pushed his way to the front) and then a long time until the passenger's seat belts signs went off. My colleague moved to another seat so I could then get my laptop out and sit in a rather uncomfortable way to do some work. The crew handed out a lovely pistachio Turkish delight and then, to my surprise, a menu. Opting for the chicken and an Effes, it proved to be very pleasant. Gloop free and with some flavour.
With the remnants of the meal still in place I couldn't work, so moved out to one of the free rows with no-one reclining in front of me and did an hour or so's work. As the Effes caught up with me, I moved back to my original seat, left my laptop out but closed my eyes and drifted away for a wee while. On waking, it was dark and we were into our descent. We hadn't made up much time, so were a few minute late, and with a remote stand / bus combination clearly being the destination I feared this was going to be hours. But not a bit of it. Front and rear steps deployed, we were to the terminal and through passport control in double quick time, defying the predictions of the seasoned traveller telling his mates "at least an hour at passport control, guaranteed".
What did, however, take and hour and change was the trip in the taxi to the hotel. Istanbul ring road. Think the M25 at rush hour, prangs every half a mile, and hawkers wandering up and down the white lines selling bread, cigarettes, water, bananas and pendant light fittings?
We can get better, because we're not dead yet