110. Airtours International
Having cut your teeth on Caravan Holidays, there inevitably comes a day when the kids are a bit older and you decide you just have to leave this fair isle for 10 days or so for warmer, sunnier, all-inclusive climes.
I don’t mind flying (or being flown) as a rule but it’s the stresser that is the “Airport Experience” that grates me. The ungodly hour you arrive at the terminal, the kranky kids, the heavy suitacases, the passports in your mouth, faffing about with printed boarding passes, the agonising suitcase weigh-in… You’ve already spent umpteen attempts weighing them at home on bathroom scales and hand-held gadgets costing three quid at B & M, but there’s still the element of agonising doubt as you plonk your case on the scales and see the digital display race up to but settle just before your allotted KG allowance is breached. (phew)
Then you’re on to another snaking queue to be body scanned for metals, liquids or shoe bombs, scissors in pencil cases etc.
Then you are fleeced at an airside Burger King outlet who levy and extra £4 on every menu item just for the privilege of you flying. (Don’t even get me started on Duty Free..)
After about 3 hours of utter stress and mither you finally board the plane and at long last, r-e-l-a-x. Now your holiday has truly begun.
To commemorate Airtours International, we bring you this ripped gun-metal grey on bleu foncé Sparta. I recall Airtours having a huge call centre up in Helmshore,(Twinned with ‘The Land that Time Forgot‘) Lancashire in the nineties. A big employer it was too but they eventually went into liquidation only to be swallowed up by Thomas Cook t/a MyTravel.
All that’s left up Helmshore now is Musberry Fabrics, the Textile Museum and it’s own micro-climate of mist and drizzle. (mizzle)