Skip to main content

The sky's the limit as Washed and Ready to Eat makes aviation history

Having spent 40 years on this planet with a relatively modest carbon footprint from flying, I never imagined that I would be a part of a landmark event in aviation. But on Sunday night, returning from Milan Malpensa (MXP) to London Heathrow (LHR), I unwittingly became involved in a milestone flight of such significance that I was awarded a free gift. Let me tell you more.

LH1880 was the inaugural flight (or the ‘volo inaugurale’ to quote my memento) of Lufthansa’s service from the fashion capital of southern Europe to the fashion capital of the north. Passenger numbers for this special occasion were, if I’m honest, a tad disappointing. On a plane that could easily hold 150 people, we struggled to break into double figures. In fact, I think there were probably only two travellers for every one crew member. Nevertheless, it was a jolly affair and I was handed a key ring by an excited Italian steward to commemorate the occasion.

The German carrier has a real identity and branding crisis at the moment. On the one hand, they are Lufthansa, a member of some sinister sounding organisation called the Star Alliance, which I think may be fighting the One World Alliance connected with British Airways. On the other, they are Lufthansa Italia when they fly from Milan. Except that… er… the service is actually provided by bmi, the British airline that Lufthansa bought out a few months ago. Confused? Well, imagine sitting on a bmi plane with seatbacks showing the Italian flag and then being served Italian food in Lufthansa packaging. This is the branding equivalent of both engines failing at the same time.

I was asked whether I’d mind sitting by the emergency exit. When I agreed, I was handed some card that told me I was responsible for removing it in the event of disaster. The instructions explained that the door was unhinged and very heavy. Nevertheless, I needed to catch it as it fell towards me and then throw it out of the plane before climbing onto the wing. All I can say is you wouldn’t want anyone unhinged sitting next to this unhinged door. Otherwise it could be laters for all concerned.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Special Constable update

I've now studied the Special Constable poster in more detail (see blogs passim ) and can reveal the idea is even more complex and bizarre than I first thought. You'll recall that a Special is on some seedy looking street corner, just yards away from where a drug deal is in progress. He's keenly observing events and looks ready to take some kind of action. The copy says that Specials wear uniform and always have back-up. But this guy is on his own in plain clothes. Worrying. Perhaps he's off duty but just can't leave the policing thing alone? Once a part-time copper, always a part-time copper. But wait. There is back up. It comes in the form of the constable's own reflection in a puddle. If he took his eyes off the criminal activity for just a second and took the trouble to look down at his feet, he'd see that in Puddle Land, he is wearing a uniform and carrying a radio. There's enough material here to fill a semiotics seminar for a day. If I disco...

Captain Birdseye and other people of rank

Regular readers may recall that I once doubted the existence of Yeo Valley. I'd never heard of the Yeo mountain range and I therefore rated the likelihood of there being a valley at somewhere between 0 and 5%. Of course, I had yoghurt all over my face when I discovered that the place really does exist. Somewhere in Somerset, I seem to recall. Today, having read an article in the latest edition of The Marketer magazine, I'm astonished to discover that there really was a Captain Birdseye. Well, I need to qualify that just a little. There was a Mister Clarence Birdseye who invented the fish finger back in 1955. The avuncular, uniformed figure who dominated our TV screens for about thirty years may have been an invention of over-eager advertising creatives, but he didn't blow in on a trawler during a squall. There was actually some connection to a real human being. These revelations about fish and yoghurt are causing me considerable disquiet, because I'm wondering h...

Tune in next week, when we'll turn another pretty woman into a high-class hooker...

I like to think that I keep up with most of Mrs W's viewing habits, but she's been watching more and more trash since emerging from her hospital trip and things are spiralling out of control. I understand the need for rest and recuperation, but fear the virus has eaten away at the part of her brain responsible for quality control. Somehow or other, I've never previously settled down to How to look good naked on Channel 4. For the uninitiated, the show is presented by a man called Gok Wan who has the kind of face you could happily slap for a week. No, make that a fortnight. Mr Wan is a firm believer that a woman hasn't lived until she's dressed herself up as a tart and paraded herself naked in front of TV cameras. The only thing holding her back is her self-esteem. With the help of hairdressers, make-up artists and a load of disingenuous patter about how great the girl is now looking, he persuades her to sway down a catwalk in lingerie and pose on a chair like...