En route to St.Petersburg

I am writing this post somewhere above Germany, I think, flying on BA0878 at 27000 feet, en route to St.Petersburg, and writing it with an enormous sense of relief. There were a few minutes yesterday when I thought that the long-awaited trip to Russia was under threat.

There have been a few occasions over the last few weeks when that was the case, wouldn't  you say?

No, not really. I understand your thinking, but no, in my mind there was no real threat for a tourist visiting three amazing cities, meeting friends and watching/listening to music. Yesterday's threat was more to do with administrative errors than international relations. 

The problem came to light when I tried to check-in online for my flight to Heathrow, at 21.30 on Monday evening. Basically, I couldn't  check in. There was a reassuring message from BA to the effect that I shouldn't worry, I could contact someone by telephone, or wait until I arrived at Newcastle Airport, where any problem could surely be sorted.

Reading between the lines, that means start worrying.

My thoughts exactly. So let's  ring the help line........... ah, they all closed at 20.00. But don't  worry, they open again at 06.00. 
So now, not only was I worried about the threat to Sunderland AFC 's existence in the Premiership, after their defeat against West Ham United, but also some problem with my booking for the flights to London and on to St.Petersburg. The former worry would not have kept me awake as it might have done in the past, but the second did. At 06.00 on the dot I telephoned BA. 

The robot informed me that  "we are experiencing  an extremely high number of calls. The current waiting time is.........(slight delay while robot calculates delay) .....30 minutes."

Hmm, I thought, 30 minutes on my mobile phone, calling an 0844 number is going to be expensive. End call, check battery time left on house phone - 3/4 full. Redial.

"We are experiencing an extremely high number of calls. The current waiting time is.........30 minutes."


Nothing if not consistent.

Set phone on speaker and listen to interminable guitar music, ever looping.

You do that, don't  you?

What?

Play interminable guitar music, with the ever looping  backing-track on your amplifier?

Yes, but mine sounds better, and fresher than the BA version, which has probably been playing  since the days of the Wright Brothers. But enough of this digression. This was serious,and my pulse rate was increasing as the minutes hold ticked by. After 20 minutes the guitar music was interrupted by a real human voice. After going through the series of security questions,  I was allowed to explain my difficulty.


"One moment sir, while I check the booking. Please hold, and do not hang up."


I held, and did not hang up. Ten minutes later, I was informed that there was a simple reason that I was unable to check-in: no e-ticket  had been issued, because of an outstanding balance which would have to be settled before it could be issued. The outstanding balance was £195.

It was at this point that I began to turn to jelly, angry jelly - jelly that shakes with anger, probably red jelly.

"What?" I exclaimed loudly.

It's true, he did. I was there, a witness to the outpouring of  a strange mixture of anger, fear, frustration and desperation which brought our hero close to bursting.

Despite all of my protestations, delivered in an ever increasingly emotional outburst, the agent at the other end of the line remained unmoved. "You will need to pay sir, and then you can dispute the matter later. I will connect you to the appropriate  department. Please hold, and do not end the call."
I held, and I did not end the call. Fifteen minutes later I was connected to the appropriate department.

"Now sir, how may I help you today?"

There were a number of responses which seemed eminently suitable, none of which I used or can repeat here. Suffice it it to say that there might have been several Anglo -Saxon expletives included, with the odd reference to bodily orifices.

Oh, go on, let's have one.

No. I explained that I had been informed that there was an outstanding balance to pay.

"Just let me have a look for you sir. Yes, there is an outstanding balance of £57 to pay."

"I'm sorry, did you just say a balance of £57 to pay? I've  just been told that it was £195."

"Ah, that is because you have acquired an avios point within the last year, so you don't need to pay taxes, just a fee of £42 plus a service charge of £15. It appears that the payment did not go through when you made the booking."

At this point the steam was coming out of my ears, but I paid, and a half hour later was able to check in online. You have not heard the last of this British Airways, but I will wait until I am back home before creating waves.

So, now I am flying over Russia, wiith landing scheduled at 15.35, that's  in 25 minutes. The rest of yesterday was  hectic. It was nice to have little chats with Luce and Iraida, and we hope to have Skype  link up later in the week, uniting Luce with her Three Lucequetaires.  :-)

The plane is beginning its descent.  Oh look, Russian clouds look just like ours. And the ground looks the same too. And all of the Russian people sitting round me look quite normal. But they would wouldn't  they - they are. I am so looking forward to this, despite the slightly daunting prospect of immigration and customs controls. After that I'm  hoping that Alena Sementsova will be waiting to guide me to the city centre and my hotel, which incidentally s the same one I stayed in forty eight years ago. I hope they've changed the bed sheets!

Later the same day: they had.

The flight landed on time, and after disembarking from the aircraft very quickly I made it through passport and customs controls with equal alacrity. Next came the baggage retrieval area, and who should I virtually bump into but Bruno Pelletier himself. As Luce later commented, "It's a small world." 

Then, after a brief conversation with him, I managed to collect my suitcase and venture into the arrivals area. After a few seconds I saw a young lady heading towards me with a smile on her face. It was Alena (pronounced Alyona), one of Iraida's friends, and an important member of the St.Petersburg Brunettes - Bruno Pelletier's fan club. Not only Alena, but Tatanie, who had just arrived from Paris were there to greet me. There was quite a group of brunettes, not for me you understand.

You wish!

Be quiet! We found our way on to the airport shuttle bus which took us part of the way towards my hotel, and then used the metro which after a change or two brought us to the Moskovskaya station, which is just across the  road from Hotel Octiabrskaya, which in turn is just across another road from Moskovskaya Railway Station. 'Just across the road' is a slightly bad description, since the roads are very wide, possibly six lanes wide, and they are a lot busier than the last time I was here!

More to come!