Up, up and away. . . !

"To fly: to serve" is the new strap-line for British Airways. 

I think it's clever, and a smart way to identify the two areas of core expertise of a passenger airline - planes and people. However, what's missing with modern air travel is any sense of occasion, so that the excitement of being truly pampered now exists only for Upper Class, Club Class, Business Class, Royal Silk or whatever fanciful branding the airline chooses, like Alitalia's modestly named "Classe Magnifica." 

For us World Travellers it's all about squeezing into our allocated stall and hoping our compression stockings will prevent Deep Vein Thrombosis.
Bless 'em, the cabin crew do try and make it a pleasant and comfortable experience, but they know that travelling back in World Traveller is to be endured, rather than enjoyed.

40 rows: 9 wide in World Traveller - 4 wide in First

My first flight in this direction was London - Nairobi in 1962, flying out as a VSO volunteer to work on youth projects in the Nairobi townships. The plane was a BOAC Bristol Britannia, with a capacity of 139 passengers (just one class - in narrow seats and just 4 across.) It was a turbo-prop plane (4 propellers) and flew at a maximum cruising  altitude of 24,000ft, rather than a jetliner's 55,000ft. This meant that as the plane traversed Uganda and Kenya, the passengers had a clear view of herds of wildebeest, impala and zebra, in addition to the occasional giraffe.
My flight to Mauritius also had excellent views of the East African game parks, with commentary from David Attenborough, on the TV channel of the in-flight entertainment system.
So much has changed for the better in global travel, but much is always lost in the relentless drive of progress all over the world. I love old airports, where passengers walked out across the tarmac to the terminal. It's best summed up by my trip to Kenya after university, to take up my first job. 

Entebbe Airport in the late 60s

The East African Airways Comet touched down in Entebbe, the main airport of Uganda, near the shores of Lake Victoria, and all the passengers trooped across to the restaurant terrace at the side of the apron. A swarm of waiters produced a freshly cooked English breakfast, silver served with professional deference, (another rasher of bacon, Bwana?)
When we had all had top-ups of the excellent Kenya coffee, and more hot toast and marmalade, we returned to the plane and arrived in Nairobi in time for lunch.




Earlier this week, I landed in Mauritius in late afternoon, to be met by my host and be chauffered from the airport on the East coast to Tamarin on the West coast, where The Riverhouse nestles on the bank of the river, just a couple of hundred yards along a sandy lane from the beach.

Evening view across the river, from the verandah of the Riverhouse

I sat on the verandah, sipping my Scotch on the rocks, as the sun disappeared and the sky darkened.

Yes; I think I could get used to this.