THIS weekend is Britain's busiest for airports. The skies are said to be full of aeroplanes taking families abroad in search of summer sunshine and fun.
Let's hope there are no problems as there were earlier in the year when a British Airways computer meltdown caused chaos. Flights were cancelled and airports packed with travelers going nowhere. It reminded me of the annual tradition of French air traffic controllers going on strike every July and August in the 1980s.
This was when you had to have a paper ticket provided by Thomas Cook and there was no default button to press if anything went wrong. You couldn't blame computers because we didn't have them. We had the Amstrad 8256 with no internet connection.
Those were the days.
The controllers of French air space would give a Gallic shrug, open a bottle of Beaujolais, light a Gauloise and sit back and waited for increased pay offers, while British holidaymakers in airports from Manchester to Malaga would be put on hold and a four hour delay was looked upon as a triumph over adversity and part of the aviation adventure.
Oh how the French must have laughed as they tucked into a liver pate baguette with a side order of frites and opened a second bottle of wine. It's amazing how they got away with so much disruption with just a Gallic shrug. It didn't work when British Airways executives tried it this year. Perhaps it's because catching a plane is now a bit like catching a bus.
We take air travel for granted. There's no longer a sense of glamour or mystery about flying to Cancun or Miami. The trip is to be endured rather than enjoyed and it should happen on time. Yet it's not that long ago when a flight was fun and adventure, and totally beyond the expectations of ordinary folk. Unless it was a trip round Blackpool Tower in a biplane for 10 bob (50p).
Now that was adventure.
Before the Second World War, flying as a passenger was for the wealthy and the risk taker. This was when hardy souls took to the skies in wicker chairs like Indiana Jones, when seats were only two abreast, and, as luxury came along, you could wake up to breakfast in bed.
The closest I came to an Indiana Jones experience was 40 years ago in Pakistan on a turbo-prop flight from Lahore to Islamabad. The flight deck was open to the cabin and I was sitting directly behind the pilot. Twenty fellow passengers, many first time flyers, stacked personal belongings into open luggage racks. When we took off, everything fell out the back.
That was an adventure.
In the early days of passenger aviation, the main concern was arriving safely because flying was risky. Today, it is the safest form of travel and the main problems for holiday flights this summer, are likely to be airline and computer glitches and strikes. And keep an eye out for French traffic controllers.
Let's hope there are no problems as there were earlier in the year when a British Airways computer meltdown caused chaos. Flights were cancelled and airports packed with travelers going nowhere. It reminded me of the annual tradition of French air traffic controllers going on strike every July and August in the 1980s.
This was when you had to have a paper ticket provided by Thomas Cook and there was no default button to press if anything went wrong. You couldn't blame computers because we didn't have them. We had the Amstrad 8256 with no internet connection.
Those were the days.
The controllers of French air space would give a Gallic shrug, open a bottle of Beaujolais, light a Gauloise and sit back and waited for increased pay offers, while British holidaymakers in airports from Manchester to Malaga would be put on hold and a four hour delay was looked upon as a triumph over adversity and part of the aviation adventure.
Oh how the French must have laughed as they tucked into a liver pate baguette with a side order of frites and opened a second bottle of wine. It's amazing how they got away with so much disruption with just a Gallic shrug. It didn't work when British Airways executives tried it this year. Perhaps it's because catching a plane is now a bit like catching a bus.
We take air travel for granted. There's no longer a sense of glamour or mystery about flying to Cancun or Miami. The trip is to be endured rather than enjoyed and it should happen on time. Yet it's not that long ago when a flight was fun and adventure, and totally beyond the expectations of ordinary folk. Unless it was a trip round Blackpool Tower in a biplane for 10 bob (50p).
Now that was adventure.
Before the Second World War, flying as a passenger was for the wealthy and the risk taker. This was when hardy souls took to the skies in wicker chairs like Indiana Jones, when seats were only two abreast, and, as luxury came along, you could wake up to breakfast in bed.
The closest I came to an Indiana Jones experience was 40 years ago in Pakistan on a turbo-prop flight from Lahore to Islamabad. The flight deck was open to the cabin and I was sitting directly behind the pilot. Twenty fellow passengers, many first time flyers, stacked personal belongings into open luggage racks. When we took off, everything fell out the back.
That was an adventure.
In the early days of passenger aviation, the main concern was arriving safely because flying was risky. Today, it is the safest form of travel and the main problems for holiday flights this summer, are likely to be airline and computer glitches and strikes. And keep an eye out for French traffic controllers.
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