V-Flyer

We've been heading out to the Caribbean every Spring for the past 10 years, but a combination of a late Easter, followed by an absolute glut of bank holidays (in fact, just one more and I believe we were in danger of turning French) meant that prices with both VS and the hotels were through the roof. So, we held fast and played a wily, but potentially risky, waiting game with the VS revenue bods.

What we really needed was a sale and, come June, that's exactly what we got: three deliciously priced Zs to Barbados, running either side of Tizer's half term holidays in late October. Not only that, but we bagged another two for my parents who, as tradition has long dictated, go out a week before us and come home a week earlier (lest we get sick of the sight of each other).

The only downside (for there must always be a downside, dear reader) was that the flights were out of LGW which has always been - well, let's be honest - a bit of a shithole. We'd been avidly watching, like any good travel nerd should, the 'Inside Gatwick' series on Sky and, I have to say, the new regime that's recently purchased the airport also-known-as 'Chavwick' seems far from convincing. A gaggle of angry senior managers with 747-sized egos overseeing a staff so fearful for their jobs and entrenched in corporate blame culture that all they seem proficient at doing is dropping their colleagues in it whenever the 'merde' hits the fan.

The only guy I liked was the grey haired, 'blue sky' thinking chap who used to be in the 'music biz'. This guy is cool. His job at Gatwick is to 'think outside the box' which seems to involve lots of stalking around the airport looking inspired, pensive and ever-so-slightly at a loose end. He doesn't shout at people (at least, not on camera), or talk 'management speak' like so many of his colleagues, but he does come up with some useful ideas, like putting a clock in the check-in hall. Not exactly 'blue sky', but certainly very handy, I imagine, if you don't have a watch and would like to know what time it is.

So, Gatwick it was; and anyway, what's an airport between friends when you have a fortnight in Barbados to look forward to? Sure, Manchester is a lot handier for us, but the service offered is still - shall we say? - diminished by comparison. Flying out of LGW might mean enduring a domestic flight, a night in the Hilton and fighting one's way through hoards of spray-tanned, sports-casual-wearing holiday-makers, but at least we could look forward to breakfast in the Clubhouse. And, thanks to the scheduling angels, it also looked as if there was every chance we'd have a LHR configured plane, so V-Port and the delights of the on-board bar would be (more-than-likely) awaiting us.

Of course, the Family mdvipond haven't had the best of luck with their long-haul travel over the past 18 months. We all but gave up on our BGI flight last year, affected as we were by Eyafa... Eyaja... Ejaya... that big volcano in Iceland that blew its top a week before our trip. Avid (and not so avid) readers of my TRs may recall how we'd tried to remain hopeful throughout the ensuing 7 days of airport chaos. In fact, we waited right up until the night before we were due to fly before having to break the news to Tizer - then aged 4 and a half - that we wouldn't be going on holiday. Then, of course, half an hour after getting the inconsolable, sobbing child to sleep they suddenly opened the airports which, whilst great news, was pretty crap timing.

Although I suppose that should be considered a roaring success compared to our next long-haul flight, this time to South Africa. In December. From Heathrow. In the snow. Or not, as it turned out. Cancelled the day we were meant to fly because BAA were too tight to buy enough de-icer or something. We were lucky in that we were able to re-schedule the whole shebang for January instead (and had, I think, a much better trip for it) but we were rather getting to a stage where the relatively stress-free scenario of book flights/pack bags/fly was becoming something of a fond but distant memory for us.

This time was going to be different though. I was certain of it. Not a peep from Eyafa... Ejaka... well, from any volcano you can (or can't) mention, and the chance of snow seemed pretty remote in October, even in the UK, so hopes were high. Of course, running one's own business (as we do, for our sins) is always going to chuck up the potential of a certain Mr. Spanner hurling himself headlong at the kindly Mr. Works, and in the three days running up to the holiday just about every thing that could go wrong, did.

Without boring you with detail (and trust me, it really is quite dull) things actually got to a stage where I suggested to Mrs V that her and Tizer head out to Barbados without me. After all, my parents were already out there, and I could try and get a cheap seat (probably in Y - eek!) and follow on in a few days time.

Mrs V however, who is wise and sage and infinitely level-headed, said - in no uncertain terms - no chuffing way mister. And, with a little delegation, a bit of negotiation and a reading of the proverbial riot act to one or two employees, it turns out she was quite right. Come Wednesday night we were doing online check-in for our BA flight from MAN down to LGW and finishing off our packing. Perhaps I don't say it often enough, but she's a clever woman, my wife.

Online check-in with BA was a breeze. Doing the same the following morning with VS was - as is far too often the case - an unadulterated mess. Some half an hour before check-in opened, VS decided to do the now infamous 'seat shuffle'. I know, planes change, reserved seats aren't actually reserved, but it really is a monumental ball-ache when they do this. All of a sudden our original seat choice of 21-23K had been scattered to the virtual wind. We now had Mrs V and I in 20G and K in Zone B, and Tizer in 19K in Zone A.

This meant, put simply, that there was now a bulkhead, a WC and door between us and our 6 year old daughter. In other words, we were in two separate cabins

We 'phoned UC reservations, but the flight was full and the computer said 'No'. When we pointed out that they'd actually put a child some 20 feet away from her parents we were assured that this wasn't the case as '19K and 20K are next to each other, sir'. Any chance someone at VS could furnish their staff with an accurate seat map so that they actually know what they're talking about? No, probably not.

"Try moving seats at online check-in", we were advised. Of course, when it came to online check-in the system told us that this wasn't possible and that we should 'check-in at the airport'. Why? Well my guess is that the computer is considerably better informed than the staff, so it wouldn't allow us to check a child in when - to all intents and purposes - said child was travelling in a different cabin to her parents. It wouldn't even let us swap seats so that Mrs V or I were sat up front. We hadn't planned on doing Twilight Check-in, but we knew that this was our best chance of getting things sorted so, after a quick re-pack to ensure that we had clean underwear for the following day, we set off for Manchester.

Whilst this is ostensibly a TR on our VS trip I won't go into too much of the mundane detail about a pretty bog-standard domestic flight, but I do have to mention a couple of items worthy of note. Firstly, the new 'Meet & Greet' parking at MAN: very well priced, in the short term car park, and only a 2 minute walk to the Terminal 3. Then once inside and through to departures, there's a new Italian worth mentioning, 'Trattoria Milano', which was really quite good considering its location. Not a bad lasagne and a very palatable tiramisu, if you like that sort of thing.

A quick hop down to LGW, a little ride on the monorail to the South Terminal, and we were soon joining the not inconsiderable queue for Twilight Check-in. I can't say exactly how long we had to queue; let's just say it was long enough for me to become starkly aware of the gin and tonic I should have been drinking in the Hilton Executive Lounge.

Finally, we were greeted by a very cheery check-in agent to whom we explained our predicament, and asked for our seats to be changed. She looked at our booking and frowned. "Well, 19K and 20K are actually next to each other sir", she chimed.

Deep breath. Count to ten. "No. No they're not", I replied, pointing out to her the bulkhead, toilet and bloody great aircraft door that made the two seats somewhat less than adjacent to each other. She referred to her colleague sat at the next desk.

After failing to convince her that 19K and 20K are actually next to each other he said, slightly too loudly:

"Well they're on a Z. So they're the lowest".

Thanks. Thanks a lot. Feel really special now. She tapped (and tapped, and tapped) at her keyboard, and finally told us that the 'best' she could do (taking into consideration, I suppose, our newly acquired status of 'The Lowest') was 21-23G, opposite the window seats we'd originally hoped for. To be fair, we were more than happy; it's not that there's much to look at other than sea and clouds for 95% of the flight, and at least we were all back together again.

More importantly, this meant we could finally hot-heel it over to the Hilton where - I was pretty sure - a glass, a bottle of gin, a slice of lime, some ice and a splash tonic were all just about to come together in a beautiful example of almost perfect symmetery. And 10 minutes later, they did. And it was good.

In fact, it was almost as good as the next one, by which time I finally started to realise that I was on holiday and the tense muscles in my neck, shoulders and back gradually, one-by-one, started to relax. No sign of Pink Face who we'd last had the misfortune to meet in this particular lounge, which was a great relief for Tizer who was, regardless, good as gold. One further G&T, once Mrs V and Tizer had turned in, ensured a very solid nights sleep once I finally crept into bed.

The following morning the benefits of our enforced Twilight Check-in became apparent. With only three small bags between us it was a breeze getting out of the hotel and heading off for the terminal. In fact, thanks to the ongoing 'improvements' at Gatwick there's still an awful lot of construction work going on, and getting around the maze that's been laid out to avoid it all with our four large cases and a 6 year old in tow would probably have looked like one of the more challenging events on 'It's A Knockout'. I can almost hear Stewart Hall now, hooting with delight: "Ha-ha-ha - now he's dropped one of his cases! - hoo-ha-ha - she's going - ha-ha - she's going the wrong way! ha-hoo-ha - they've missed the door - haaaaa - they've missed the door!"

But, thankfully, with just hand-luggage, it wasn't too bad. That was, of course, until we got inside and found that the terminal was heaving. A throng of biblical proportions stood between us and fast-track security. As we looked on in dismay, trying to plan a route through, a figure stepped out of the crowd and approached us. Bloody hell; it was only the grey-haired, blue-sky-thinking bloke off 'Inside Gatwick'!

"Where are you flying to today?" he asked, looking sage and guru-like. We told him we were heading for Barbados and had fast-track passes for security. "I'd avoid fast-track if I was you", he said, "you'll be 40 minutes getting through there today". He advised us instead to head upstairs to the new security area which, he pointed out, should see us airside in 5 or 10 minutes. We thanked him wholeheartedly, managed to avoid telling him we'd seen him on the telly (so common), and made our way towards the escalators.

Mrs V looked at me, and at the grin on my face. "That's made your day, hasn't it?". Yes dear, I told her, yes it has. And you know what? He was right. We were through the new-style security - which feels a bit like a London underground station, but less threatening and without the buskers - in no time at all. I was still smiling to myself as we entered the blessed portals of the Clubhouse, grabbed a table and ordered a brace of English breakfasts and bacon sarnie.

It was a bit slow coming out to be honest, but thanks to grey-haired-blue-sky-thinking-bloke, time was on our side, so I took Tizer for a wander around the facilities. It was busy and there were an awful lot of children (it being half-term I shouldn't have been too surprised). Now, don't get me wrong; I like children. Hell, I used to be one. But I like them, shall we say, with a sense of location and occasion. Well trained. Able to behave in an adult environment. Not, for instance, playing tig-off-ground on the Clubhouse chairs as one gaggle of 7-9 year old boys was doing.


Tizer chilling in the Clubhouse

Their parents, as seems de rigueur these days, were paying no bleeding attention whatsoever to their offspring, save an occasional, "Tarquin, darling, don't put that up Oliver's nose" which, it seemed, only encouraged Tarquin to shove whatever it was even further up Oliver's inflamed nostril. I counted a good dozen or so kids in three of four family groups. And of course, the same thought instantly crossed my mind that was no doubt also crossing the minds of most of the people in the Clubhouse at that very moment: please - for the love of god - don't let them be on my flight.

We returned for a frankly spanking breakfast then decided to slowly amble up to the gate. Sadly, so did Tarquin, Oliver et al. This didn't bode well... Once at the gate it looked as though most of Economy and PE had boarded, so priority boarding wasn't an issue. We handed over our boarding passes and passports and, in return, Tizer received - gasp - a Virgin Atlantic K-iD Pack! I'd heard of these mystic packages in tales of yore, but never in my wildest dreams had I believed that they really existed, let alone that my own daughter would ever receive the great honour of being presented with one.

Okay, so I'm taking the piss, but they are a bit like hen's teeth and, as one particular member of this esteemed site will attest, they hardly make up for the fact that kids earn diddly-squat in the Flying Club mileage stakes. Anyway, Tizer seem pleased, which is all that counts really.

Once on board we settled quickly into our suites. I took 23G, which I've never been in before, but it's terribly cosy, ensconced as it is behind the bar which means you're hardly overlooked by any other passengers. Our original choice of seats had been taken up by a family with two older children who looked like they'd be happy to spend the next 8 hours plugged into their iPods, thank god. The seats we'd been moved into prior to online check-in had, I was sad to note, been given to a family of three, which meant the father was sat up front in 19K with mum and son back in 20G & K. I wonder if they'd been told at check-in that 19 and 20K were next to each other... Oh well; sorry to say it, but rather them than us.

A very, very smiley blonde FA offered me a glass of champagne, and I briefly asked myself whether half past 9 in the morning was a little too early for hitting the champers (where 'briefly' is roughly equal to the time it takes for a photon to shoot round the Large Hadron Collider). I sat, sipped my bubbles and perused the Telegraph. If only all mornings could be like this.

I think there was about half an hour's delay to the scheduled take-off, but they'd already announced a pretty swift flight time, so no big deal. Soon enough, we were airborne and Very Very Smiley Blonde was back offering me another drink. Well, it was barely 11am, what should I do? Perhaps a tonic water would be appropriate? With a little ice. And maybe a slice of lime. Oh, and if you'd be a dear, how about putting some gin in it? Ta.

She also took my lunch order which, again, at 11 in the morn seemed a tad previous, but I wasn't in the mood for a debate on just how much freedom the Freedom Menu really offers and opted for the pea and basil risotto, followed by the salmon. Then it was time to indulge in two of my favourite things: Gin, and the trivia game on V-Port.

Sadly, no one else on the plane was playing. I fought a couple of solo battles, and did rather well, but without any competitors to grind into the dust it lost its edge pretty quickly. I popped myself on Tizer's ottoman, and tried to engage her in conversation, but she was glued to her TV screen, entranced by the film 'Rio'. Even prodding her repeatedly in the ribs failed to break her concentration. In fact, it wasn't until I covered her screen with my hands that I managed to extract a "Daddeeeee! Stoppit!" from her. Mrs V looked up and shot me the 'stop teasing' look, so I gave in, sloped back to my own suite and decided to give 'Kung Fu Panda 2' a go.


How Tizer spend 5 hours out of our 8 hour flight

Lunch arrived half an hour into the movie, delivered by Very Very Smiley Blonde who, if anything, had actually got even smilier since I'd last seen her. I was reminded ever-so-slightly of Jack Nicholson's portrayal of The Joker. Anyway, the risotto she brought was delicious, very good indeed. I had a glass (or two) of a pleasant French white, served by the FSM, which is always a nice touch.

The main arrived: salmon on a 'pillow' of crab and mascapone. Despite the slightly poncey description (the pillow actually turned out to be a lovely little crab 'raviolo') it really was a particularly tasty meal, possibly one of the nicest I've had in the air in many a long year. Mrs V had also plumped for the salmon as was equally complimentary. Little Miss V had opted for the child's meal, which seemed to comprise of minced up chicken bollocks shaped into teddy bears and covered in breadcrumbs. She ate the vegetables and left the 'teddies'. Most wise.

I finished off with the lemon tart. Very - well - lemony. By which time, Kung Fu Panda 2 had come to an end. Not a lot to tell it apart from the first one, to be honest, but harmless enough. This reviewer gives it - 3 stars!

The time had come for Tizer and Daddy to walk off lunch with a stroll to the back of the bus. Full flight, as far as I could tell, with an awful lot of folk standing in the aisles in Economy, which made our progress particularly slow, especially when peoples' response to a polite "Excuse me" is a dirty stare and not much else.

By the time we got back up front again, I was quickly aware of two things. Firstly, there seemed to be children everywhere. Secondly, Mrs V looked thoroughly pissed off (in fact, even more so the usual). It seemed that Tarquin and his chums had decided to resume their game of tig-off-ground, but this time in the confines of the Upper Class cabin at 36 thousand feet. Most of the action seemed to be centred on the suite directly behind Mrs V with, at one point, some three children stood on the seat, and a fourth trying to climb over the divide.

Mrs V's patience is well known. I should know; she's been putting up with me for 17 years. But she'd clearly had enough and, politely but firmly, she told Tarquin and his little mob to sit the hell down. It worked, to an extent, but they were soon back to using the divide between the D and G rows as a short cut between the aisles. And there appeared to be an awful lot more of them than I'd originally thought. It turned out that there was another family with 4 or 5 children in the front cabin, and they had now joined with rest of the Tarquin's gang to form some sort of unholy re-imagining of the 'Lord of the Flies'.

Time to talk to the crew: Mrs V asked the FA (not the Very Very Smiley Blonde, a less smiley, mousey girl) if she could try and restore some order to the cabin.

"I'm really sorry", she said, "I've spoken to them once, and asked them to be a little quieter". Well, it clearly hadn't worked.

And where, I hear you all asking, were the parents? Well, at the bar, where else? Sat on a bar stool each in their sleepsuits, sipping champagne like they didn't have a care in the world. The parents of the kids from the front cabin appeared to be having a post-lunch nap in their suites, bless 'em. Why is it that some parents seem to think that they can let their kids run riot and expect everyone else to put up with it or even - I swear this is the case sometimes - to find it 'endearing'?

Less Smiley Mousey Girl must have had words in certain quarters, because things started to gradually calm down. Either that or they tired themselves out. What I do know is that the look Mrs V gave the last brat who tried to traverse the divider will still be giving him nightmares well into his thirties (with any luck). I dared to venture up front one more time, and the cabin looked like the aftermath of a five-year-old's birthday party. The family had spread their belongings, toys, magazines, clothes and scraps of food across every square inch of carpet.

We've been fortunate enough to fly all over the world with Tizer, usually in Upper Class, often staying in some pretty high-end (and therefore not entirely kid-friendly) hotels. When we first set out to do this with child-in-tow, quite soon after she was born, we decided from the outset that we'd do all we could to ensure that she would never impact on anyone else's enjoyment or relaxation. And I like to think - barring a certain pink-faced gentleman in the Hilton Executive Lounge - that we have succeeded. How anyone can allow their children to behave anywhere like this - never mind in a business class airline cabin - is quite beyond me.

I went back to my own little brood to find Tizer engrossed in her second film - 'Rango'; as far as I could work out, a spaghetti-Western starring a Johnny Depp-voiced lizard. She appeared to be loving it, giving me a beaming smile and insisting I crawled into her suite so she could put one side of her headphones to my ear to let me join in the fun.

To be fair - sweet as it sounds - it wasn't that comfortable, so I adjourned to the bar now, thankfully, devoid of the parents from hell. They appeared to have gone back to their suites to sleep the champers off. Very Very Smiley Blonde poured me another glass of that nice French white before disappearing off, possibly to practice smiling in the toilet mirror. And before long, my two ladies appeared, grabbed a stool each and joined me. All very relaxing, and still - for me - one of the great advantages of UC: It's all about the bar people.





A couple more glasses of wine - interspersed with water to be on the safe side - and it started to look as if it was quite possibly time for tea. How super. Tizer and I decided we were going to take tea together, so she sat in her seat and took to her ottoman. Very Very Smiley Blonde was nowhere to be seen (stricken, perhaps, by a particularly painful bout of facial cramp) but had been replaced by a rather cheery male FA, who suggested he brought the two of us 'a bit of everything'.

When it arrived, it was clear he'd been true to his word. A plateful of sandwiches, two whacking great slices of cream cake and two scones (supplied, of course with two pots of jam and two pots of clotted cream). Tizer hadn't had much lunch, so put a pretty decent dint in it for a 6 year old. The rest - I'm slightly ashamed to say - I wolfed down. The cake, in particular, was very good. Both slices.


A little 'light' tea

Feeling just a tad bloated, I returned to my own suite and settled down to an episode or two of 'Family Guy'. Say what you like, but Seth MacFarlane has to be one of the cleverest, uber-talented, most foul-mouthed bastards you could ever hope to meet. I love him. I managed to get half way through my second episode before the powers that be cruelly switched V-Port off. But, look on the bright side - at least it meant we were nearly in the Caribbean baby!

I craned my neck to look out of the windows opposite and there it was - beautiful Barbados - all ready and waiting to spoil me with rum punches, long lunches, white sandy beaches and hot, hot sun. Christ, I was ready for this holiday.

Landing was quick (but not too quick, that's what they call 'crashing') and the doors were soon opened to let in some of that sweet, moist Caribbean air. Moister than usual actually - never having visited in October I'd been prepared for the added humidity that comes with the 'wet season', and as we came down the steps and on to the tarmac it certainly made itself known. Nothing we couldn't handle though and we were through immigration and heading out to meet the car (which - in true Barbados fashion - didn't show up) in less than 20 minutes.

Cars not arriving is par for the course, so we jumped in a waiting taxi. Perfectly acceptable service, and it was nice that he didn't charge us for the detour via his house so he could pick his lunch up. Only in Barbados... And then we were strolling into dear old Treasure Beach, Tizer charging into the loving arms of her grandparents and your intrepid correspondent charging into the loving arms of Michael, the barman, and one of his impeccable rum punches.

A great, great flight, despite the brats. Good crew, great food, no problems with V-Port - what's to complain about? Okay, well the whole 'seat shuffle' hoo-ha which I still think VS really ought to sort. For families in particular, it can be unnecessarily stressful having to mess about with seat allocations at the last minute. Oh, and if anyone can let me know where Tarquin is flying to next year, I'll make a note to avoid it.


Payne's Bay, St. James, Barbados

Another mdvipond masterpiece :-)

And I bet Tizer still wears that VS watch to this day....

Quality as always.

At least Tarquin will be entertained at Sandy Lane, obviously not by the parents, so 90's...

What an epic tale. I read this twice and still laughing my head off...many thanks for cheering up a crap day for me.
Great to read that the whole trip worked out after the not so musical chairs game. With regard to the flying brats, you have my sympathies....how/why can parents think that they should give up any responsibility for them just because they are on holiday......mind you, they are probably the same on normal non holiday days.

Here's hoping you had a fab time on your jollies .Can't wait for the return TR....it certainly beats watching "Live at the Apollo" at this late hour.....
P.S..,are you doing the stand up at the Edinburgh Festival any year....?

Fair made my evening, that did. An mdvipond TR always has the curiously aligned qualities of bringing out my Grumpy Old Man (and no, that's not a pet name) whilst thinking that actually most of the human race ain't that bad.

As to said parents and their offspring, it's quite clear. It's because they have paid their money and are "entitled".

This avid new reader would LOVE to read about the pink faced Gentleman..?! I feel well and truly sucked into your TR, infact, I don't think I want it to end!!

Stellar stuff as usual sir . Why do I always hope that one day you'll meet another Graig character at the bar ?
And yes you are correct- Mrs V is sage , wise , level headed and always right . It makes for a much easier life when our menfolk (eventually) realise this .
Hope you all had a great holiday (and did you manage a Silvermoon jaunt this year??) .
DL

Absolutely enjoyed that trip report...Thanks!!

SHG wrote:This avid new reader would LOVE to read about the pink faced Gentleman..?! I feel well and truly sucked into your TR, infact, I don't think I want it to end!!

Try "The Toolbox" -> "Trip Report Index" and find mdvipond's VS029 TRs. They will, unlike Lee Evans, keep you entertained for hours.

You may also find the following there somewhere from 2008.

"mdvipond jr. was presented with her first ever Virgin kid's pack - an auspicious moment indeed. They're quite cool actually"

A Jack Regan-esque "bang to rights", I think

What can I say another masterpiece. Informative, flowing and above all entertaining. If only you travelled more often.

I look forward to the return TR.

Another fine TR, Sir, thank you.

A fantastic read, many thanks.


oldboy

Oh I do look forward to the wonderful trip reports from this member, and this was no exception.

Hope you have/had a fab holiday.

A very entertaining and enjoyable TR. Thanks for posting. Hope you have a great holiday.

Thanks for the kind comments chaps. Hope it wasn't too long. As some of you may know, my 'self editing function' is pretty poor.

pjh wrote:An mdvipond TR always has the curiously aligned qualities of bringing out my Grumpy Old Man (and no, that's not a pet name)

Paul, please, I've not long since had breakfast.

pjh wrote:You may also find the following there somewhere from 2008.

"mdvipond jr. was presented with her first ever Virgin kid's pack - an auspicious moment indeed. They're quite cool actually"

A Jack Regan-esque "bang to rights", I think

Indeed. She's had, by my my reckoning, three - possibly four - kid's packs in some 40 or so VS flights. And as NH points out, she still cherishes each and every watch...

DL - Well of course we did Silvermoon! Ever since you tipped us off to it, it's become an annual mdvipond family tradition. Cracking lunch this year - marlin and macaroni pie. Hmmm....

Mark,

Truly wonderful as ever, it has been far too long since we have been over to BGI or even on VS. Tizer and Daniel are fairly close age wise and it is always makes me laugh with her loving antics. I know fully where you are.
Maybe next year we will be lucky with a trip.

all the best mate and looking forward to the return leg TR.

Iain

a classic and great entertainment even if you aqre the lowest scum humanity could ever find in UC !!!!!! I think I know what my response might have been !!

what a shame about the poorly behaved brats, yet another debate about 'kids should be sat down below with the pets ' looms :-)

Fantastic TR, honestly a really entertaining read. Thank you for posting.

What an absolute nightmare Tarquin and his brigage were!

I think you've reminded everyone again that children have just as much right to travel in UC - it comes down to the parenting. It sounds like little Tizer was fantastically behaved!

Hope Barbados was lovely, one of my favourite things is the feel of that wonderful moist Caribbean air!

A TR can never be too long!

Cal

Brilliant TR, many thanks. Surprised the Captain didnt resort to putting the seatbelt sign up for 10 minutes to get the children back to their seats...

Great TR as always! Thank you.

Tizer sounds like a dream to fly with.

What a wonderful trip report. Thank you for taking the time to write it. We live it with you. Can't wait for the return.

Izzy x

Great TR as usual (and another prompt for me to finish mine !)

Your good lady must have the patience of a saint because I would have given tarquin and his darling friends a right good talking too!

You must get Tizer to write her thoughts one of these days.

iforres1 wrote:Mark,

Truly wonderful as ever, it has been far too long since we have been over to BGI or even on VS. Tizer and Daniel are fairly close age wise and it is always makes me laugh with her loving antics. I know fully where you are.
Maybe next year we will be lucky with a trip.

all the best mate and looking forward to the return leg TR.

Iain

Thanks Iain. Hope you get out there soon. Having done every year since Tizer was 4 months old, I can say with conviction that 6ish is a very good age for them to really enjoy all that Barbados has to offer. Except for the rum. She can wait a bit before sampling that.

RLF wrote:Surprised the Captain didnt resort to putting the seatbelt sign up for 10 minutes to get the children back to their seats...

Me too. Would have helped matters greatly. Still, wouldn't want to have spoiled little Tarquin's fun now, would we...?

Mandy Hall wrote:Tizer sounds like a dream to fly with.

Yes, she is Mandy, and we consider ourselves most fortunate as it means we can travel where we like (finances permitting) confident that she'll behave appropriately. Well, most of the time anyway.

tontybear wrote:You must get Tizer to write her thoughts one of these days.

Good idea tonty. She ain't too hot with a keyboard yet, but I could get her to write her own TR longhand and transpose it for V-Flyer. Hmm. Watch this space...

Ta muchly again for the nice remarks. I've got a few pics that I'll try and put up over the weekend.

pjh wrote:A Jack Regan-esque "bang to rights", I think

mdvipond wrote:but never in my wildest dreams had I believed that they really existed, let alone that my own daughter would ever receive the great honour of being presented with one.

Okay, so I'm taking the piss

Oops. Should've noticed that...

Another great TR - there is definately a book waiting to be published here