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Saturday 22 November 2008

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Short-haul heaven

Alistair Scott says go to Docklands for the best in stress-free travel

‘I did not fully understand the dread term “terminal illness” until I saw Heathrow for myself,’ wrote Dennis Potter in 1978. Nearly 30 years later the illness is much more acute and there are yet more terminals at what is Europe’s busiest airport.

Let me make my own historical position clear straight away. Living in Notting Hill for the past three decades, I’ve always been a Heathrow man at heart. The brilliant Boz of west London specialist Chauffeur Direct (020 8746 0099) scoops me up in his soothing silver Mercedes and in not much more than 30 minutes — and for rather less in pounds sterling — I’m at the door of my chosen terminal. So far, so good. But now it gets bad. Really bad.

In recent months the experience of progressing through one of BAA’s Heathrow terminals to my designated aircraft, which was never exactly joyous, has become simply hellish. (For the sake of brevity, I shall simply blame Osama bin Laden and his soi-disant organisation for their insidious victory in making business and leisure travel through Heathrow increasingly unbearable.)

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