When it comes to financial decisions, I am very much the traditional little woman. I don’t understand money, my husband does. So it makes sense to leave the decision-making to him. I trust him. He does ‘discuss’ things with me before he takes a decision, but it goes straight over my head. Or in one ear and out of the other.
So when he told me that it cost only slightly more to get nice seats on our plane to Barcelona, I trusted him to make that decision. I have no idea how slightly much more it cost, but if my husband thought we could afford it, so be it.
And so we came to be sitting in a lovely posh lounge at Gatwick airport. It was like checking into a hotel. There were comfy seats with a view across the runway. There was free newspapers and free food and drink – breakfast items and most drinks you can imagine, including alcohol. There was a room with a TV and a games console (so I didn’t see my younger son). There were posh toilets (so posh they were shared with First Class) and, best of all, WiFi and a socket where I could plug my iPhone in to charge.
And then there was us. Noisy and untidy. We’d brought our own cakes in, to my husband’s disgust. My sister had given them to me before we set off and we hadn’t had time to eat them. They were way too good to go to waste. So we ate them. Surrounded by free food. Then the kids started on the free food, because that was too good to waste too. Crisps, biscuits, but mainly toast. They buttered their own, which made it so much more exciting. They walked along eating it and got told off by Daddy because people in the posh lounge sit down to eat their toast and don’t get butter on their faces and crumbs down their Tshirts.
There were very few kids in there – we owned approximately half of them in a large room full of quiet, upper middle class adults. Us country bumpkins don’t do flying. The last time we flew my daughter was 4, so her memories are hazy. She was genuinely excited to see the planes. She shouted out at every single plane taking off or landing. This is Gatwick. There was an awful lot of planes taking off and landing. I’m sure the quiet, posh people reading their newspapers shared my daughter’s delight after she’d shouted out for the 100th time.
If you can afford that little bit extra (whatever that little bit extra is), I would definitely recommend the posh departure lounge. Feel free to get in touch to double check we won’t also be there lowering the tone before you book 😉