The Big Getaway

Well, here I am fresh back from the family holiday and with a whole new saga to relate. Instead of the annual voyage in a cattle truck (or coach, as the operators like to call them) this year was my first time flying in a big metal bird. More of this experience later. But first we will relate the experience of the overnight airport hotel stop.

Manchester Airport is roughly 110 miles from my home across the other side of the Pennines and linked by a motorway from South Cave. the motorway leg of the journey at a comfortable cruising speed of 60mph takes about an hour and a half to two hours at most depending on traffic conditions. The first 30 miles from my home to South Cave involves travelling across the South Holderness district, where the council have put a carpet 30 mph limit, and across Hull, then onto the A63, which is renown for being closed whenever I want to use it. This is because although it is the main route in and out of Hull, and should have been a motorway link, it is in fact a dual carriageway with no hard shoulder, so everytime a piece of grit falls off a lorry the Traffic Wombles (as beloved of Jeremy Clarkson and otherwise known as the Highways Agency Traffic Officers) close the road to recover it, usually at rush hour.

This, coupled with the airline industries insistence that you must check in for a flight three hours before the plane is built meant that with a boarding time of 0930 there was just too much risk in being delayed. Asides from this my father in law, who has more airmiles than Richard Branson, had made the arrangements which meant that we got free car parking for the duration of the holiday if we stayed for one night in a Manchester Hotel. Hence it was a no brainer really, and we duly set off the day before we were due to fly, stopping off at Legoland Discovery Centre to spend the day there before checking in to the hotel.

As an aside, LDC (Legoland Discovery Centre) was a big disappointment as we had already been to proper Legoland at Windsor, which was fantastic, at least to the 4 and 7 year old kids we had then. Unfortunately they have grown up a little and at 8 and 11 are not so easily impressed. Legoland proper had far more rides and attractions, with full sets of Lego to play with. LDC was a bit like when I was a kid and visited my Grans, where my elder cousins had left their "spare" lego, and the Duplo blocks they had grown out of. In theory it was possible to build the movie set from Star Trek, but it didn't look as good as it ought to without the wheels, sloped bits, windows, little men and trees and stuff. LDC left me with the same deflated feeling. It was Lego, Jim, but not as we know it.

Following the disappointment of LDC we followed the well signposted route to Manchester Airport terminal 3 and straight to our Hotel. This was far better than the signposted route to Gatwick I followed a few years back when i was directed via a Taxis only lane then straight into a Car Park I didn't want to stop in, but had to pay £3 to get out of.

Our overnight stop was at Bewleys hotel, which is walking distance from the terminal, but which provides a courtesy bus for fat and lazy people. Although not all that fat, I figured as I was on Holiday I would join the lazy people, so I used the courtesy bus too. I had been warned that my car would be driven by a spotty 17 year old who would trash it across Manchester to park it on some rough industrial estate somewhere for a fortnight, but in the event it was secured in the hotel car park for the night and remained there - I know this because I kept the keys, marked the tyres and set the on board security video. If any dodgy hotel employee tried to use it as a minicab whilst I was away I'd known about it. I'd point out that Bewleys Hotel has a fine reputation and doesn't allegedly do that sort of thing, but I've heard stories and wasn't taking any chances.

With the Hotel being so close to the terminal I thought I'd be kept awake by aircraft coming and going. Not so. I could barely hear them for the trains running past. Bewleys Hotel comes highly recommended for insomniac trainspotters. Particularly those who suffer from the cold. It was hot. Very hot. At one point I swear I saw steam coming from the radiator, and the wallpaper stripping off. The room was allegedly air conditioned, but a mouse farting would have created more of a breeze than the flow of air coming from the air-con.

No matter, at least I didn't oversleep and miss the flight. Awake at 0545 we were too early for a hotel breakfast, so had coffee and a supermarket croissant before being bussed across to the terminal. Read about my thoughts on airports tomorrow.