This is a Trip Report from the Upper Class cabin
Ground Staff
Food & Drink
Entertainment
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Cabin Crew
It’s a St Lucian patois / creole name for a particular soup.
For the moment, just savour the name, let it roll around your mouth a few times. I shall return to it presently.
This trip was planned to feature a number of firsts. First time in a hotel the night before a flight (and hence the first time not up at sparrowf*rt for a flight), first twilight check in, first UC ex LGW, first sat opposite rather than next to each other and the first time MrsPJH and I on a beach holiday without offspring. For those who don’t want to read further, in summary none of these proved to be a disappointment, though one or two teetered on the brink at time.
First, an unplanned first. SEQ1 and 2. How childishly pleased was I about that, thinking it a harbinger of a smooth and fulfilling travel experience. I had plenty of time to reflect on the potential for having made a major misjudgement there as we first sat and perspired in the heat for 45 minutes at the Dartford Crossing and then sat and perspired in terror as our taxi driver enthusiastically took on the self imposed challenge of making good the 45 minute delay on the remainder of the trip. (at least I think it was perspiration?)
Twilight Check In proved a pleasant enough experience, enlivened a little by watching groups of Barbados bound passengers being taken aside and overhearing muttered conversations featuring “flight change….double drop….hour and a half delay into Barbados….bundles of untraceable tenners as compensation”. Thinking no more of it except to wonder what was going on, we left with boarding passes for 6A and 6K in hand and me looking forward to swanning through the airport the next morning, the burden of luggage replaced by one of self importance.
Eventually we found our way to the Hilton. I presume the term “linked” in the sentence “a covered walkway linked to the South Terminal” has been subject to Trading Standards review and that I was misplaced in my expectations of a walkway that actually went to the terminal rather than the parking structure associated with the terminal via a lift, good lung fulls of carbon monoxide and shins accidentally barked by the travel weary guiding overloaded trolleys of luggage.
Never mind, we were soon checked in and in the Executive Lounge nibbling the nibbles and feeling disappointed that I could find neither a Daily Telegraph to harumph behind nor a small child of whom to disapprove. That species’ only representative in the lounge was so well behaved and entreated to “shhh, darling” even when simply asking a question in a child like manner that I wanted to go over and say “Dear lady, let your daughter ask her innocently child like questions without constraint….” but thought the scene in the Lounge would end up resembling an H.M. Bateman “The Man Who…” cartoon following which I would be ejected, so didn’t.
Instead I looked at my phone as it pinged to deliver a new message. A message from Virgin Holidays. A message saying flight schedule change. A flight schedule change of no delay in flight number or departure time but a two hour delay in arrival. Mmmmm. So most likely we are the double droppers; guess we’ll be told officially tomorrow.
In the meantime, off to find something more substantial to eat. I broke my promise to myself that I wouldn’t go “you have to be joking!” at the prices in the Hilton, and instead we raided M&S for a picnic.
Next morning, first stop the Clubhouse. Greeted with enormous enthusiasm, questions about where we were headed, which seats we had, had we been to the Club House before? It all added to the “Friday Fizzle” (copyright MrsPJH) of excitement, and very appropriate for what I assume is the profile of the clientele, i.e. not on business but off for a good time. Put Mr and Mrs MW on the guest list and headed in to an enormously pleasurable experience. OK, not as big and “look at me!” as LHR, but the service was excellent. It was reasonably busy, with a few large groups, but the level of service never flagged and the level of champagne in the glass never lowered. Adding a deli and lowering the force of the aircon (and, to be fair, we could have moved) are the only things I could think to make it better, so otherwise top marks.
Had a few moments with the very charming Mr and Mrs MW on their way to Vegas on their first anniversary. I was in no way, shape or form jealous of the fact that they’d be on a refurbished aircraft and we wouldn’t. Honestly, cross my heart and my fingers are not crossed behind my back.
And so to the aircraft and the flight. We (with some reluctance) left the CH at first call, and by the time we arrived at the gate there was no queue and most passengers seemed to be on board. No name check, but an “oh, VIP seats, I see” made up for it (I am easily pleased). I was worried about how the 6A/K selection would pan out – MrsPJH does not particularly like take off and landing and an occasional squeeze of the hand has been known to help – but we both loved it. Not having yet shed the burden of self importance I took up at check in, I really enjoyed being able to sit on the ottoman right in the pointy end and survey my…sorry..the domain before me.
Now, here’s a couple of things. One, we are now on the aircraft. At no point – apart from the rather abrupt email from VH – have we been told anything about the change in the flight. I guess had we checked in that morning we may have received some clearer indication of what was happening. Two, BGI passengers were, it would seem, receiving compensation for being inconvenienced, transferring to this flight and being an hour and a half late into BGI. By the same token, weren’t we also being inconvenienced by being delayed by more than an hour and half (allowing for time sitting on the ground at BGI)? In saying this I’m not concerned about recompense, more simple recognition. In the end though the flight itself was so enjoyable, the BGI stop off so well managed and the fact the child in me got two take off and landings for the price of one that actually I didn’t really care.
It transpired that we were carrying 70 passengers, across all classes, into BGI. Now seeing that the BGI flight was being serviced by a two class A330 my original thought had been that there would be “issues” around the UC allocation. In the end it transpired that six seats in UC were taken by BGI passengers…and two of these seemed to have been upgraded at the airport. This struck me as a bit odd, particularly as there was another couple – not in UC – monopolised the bar at one time, deep in conversation with the CC, looking as if this was their default mode of travel. So had they accepted a downgrade, with the proviso of some time at the bar? Given that I assume BGI is generally full in UC, what happened to the rest of them – particularly given the apparent upgrade? Answers on a postcard, please.
Suites and surroundings were clean but battered. A quick shufty of the inflight entertainment listings suggested I wouldn’t be troubling the Super Nova system too much (though I did catch some of Veep, which I enjoyed greatly) and would instead rely on my paper based entertainment system which didn’t have to be switched off for take off and landing.
Service started with the arrival of champagne in the new coupe glasses. Slightly challenging, but overcome by a combination of the use of the ottoman and not leaving the liquid in the glass for too long.
After some confusion about where we were actually heading “Welcome aboard flight VS31 to Barbad… (sound of hand placed over microphone and muffled conversation)..sorry VS31 to St Lucia via Barbados…”, notification that we had three pilots and a full complement of crew and passengers we were away down to Southampton and then out over the sea.
Menus distributed and drink orders taken (“lemon or lime with the g&t?”) the level of service didn’t flag the entire flight. The two crew servicing the cabin read everything correctly, appearing at just the right times to offer refills, water etc; it felt as if there were more than two providing the service. They allowed visitors from other cabins (which was how it became clear that there were two upgrades) and hosted the aforementioned two at the bar for a while. At one point I popped my head up over the partition having awoken from a “snooze” to be immediately asked what I would like to drink. Perhaps my befuddled choice of “white wine?” was not the best, but to ask is to receive – and I still had my bottle of water.
As per usual we opted to dine together, and really enjoyed the food and the new service. Only an accompaniment of a Hollands Cheese and Onion pie could have improved the pea focused amuse bouche, and the pea and mint pasta was just right. Wenlock and Mande…sorry, Orville and Wilbur…were in evidence. Actually some Olympic bunting was put up, so presumably nobody from Locog was on the aircraft to grass VS up to BA. I thought the cheese trolley worked well in the 747, as did the afternoon tea, when we went all Alan Bennett & Thora Hird over the macaroons. Not sure that these aspects of service wouldn’t seem a terrible fuss in the more cramped conditions of an Airbus.
Our descent into BGI featured virtually a complete circuit of the island, and on landing we were shipped off to a relatively remote part of the airport, passing the VS A330 on stand. Seventy souls having left the aircraft, it was then explained that we would have to do a security check that involved everyone taking their assigned seats having removed all their belongings from the overhead lockers / wardrobes and keeping them close. When executing this check we found that one of the UC departees had left their iPad; after some “finders keepers” comments from the rest of the cabin and the crew, it was sent off the aircraft presumably defusing or avoiding a “no, YOU’VE got it….” argument at the start of their holiday.
Refuelling was also taking place, and once that was complete, doors were closed for the 25 minute flight, at 8,000 feet, to St Lucia. At which point we had another safety briefing, including the usual “you may have flown with us before but each aircraft is slightly different” spiel. I did wonder how this could be the case in our situation, but decided not to think about it too hard as the notion of an aircraft that changed in flight could be worrying.
Rather curiously, this part of the flight had a rather relaxed, end of term “you can bring in your own games” feeling, helped no doubt by the fact that there were now only 8 souls in UC. Now what would service have been like, had that been the load for the complete flight?
After the short hop and an instruction to take no pictures, we were on the ground with the doors open. At this point UC passengers were held back to the right of the bar to let a small group of other passengers, including one lady weeping copiously, off and into the arms of a police escort. That they (the group, not the police) were the recipients of many hugs from the crew suggests that the background must have been some personal tragedy rather than an act of criminality.
This rather disturbed the priority disembarkation, as the PE passengers decided that they should follow immediately. At first I thought, it doesn’t matter. That lasted for about 2 seconds as I remembered standing sweltering in queues for border control at various Caribbean airports, nipped to the left side of the bar, and (possibly rather ungraciously) stuck myself in front of the seething mob. At which point the crew at the right of the bar moved aside, leaving me looking like a bit of a d*ck, frankly. Oh well.
We only had to speed past a few dawdlers to reach the head of the queue for border control, through in five minutes, bags picked up and through Customs. Here the curious phrase “Are you carrying any considerations for anyone on the island?” was used by the official; he may, of course, have just been referring to my behavior on attempting to leave the aircraft.
After a rather nerve shredding taxi ride to Gros Islet (“He’s not coming toward us on our side of the road, surely? Oh he is! Omigodomigod…..phew..” ) we finally made it to East Winds Inn.
Showered, changed, Pitoned and champagned (hey, if “medal” can be a verb…) escorted to dinner….
“For the first course sir?”
“I’d like the soup…the Fu…...”
Oops. It had been a long day.
We can get better, because we're not dead yet