FOR THE LOVE OF TRAVEL
Johnny Ireland
I love to travel. Any time, any place, anywhere. Train… plane… Calmac ferry. You name it, I’m there.
Do you remember Yugoslavia? It’s now divided into six independent states, but in 1985 I visited Yugoslavia as it was. I remember it well. It was £210 for ten days full board, including airport transfers. Sea view was an extra £5 per person per day. I asked the travel agent if just one of us could pay for the sea view – I even promised not to look! She was unconvinced and swiftly added £100 to our bill. Little did I know there would be a tree outside our balcony, making a mockery of the promised sea view.
That said, it was still an absolute bargain. £270 each, all meals included. Even the airport car park was free! I recently flew from Glasgow airport and the parking charges were almost as much as the flight!
In fact, those parking charges were just the start of a so-called ‘cheap’ but long weekend to Paris. Having already paid a small fortune to ensure our wee pup was well looked after during our trip, I was then stung for an uninspiring pint and what turned out to be a ‘fake’ bellini in the airport.
And don’t even get me started on the flights! A small, underseat cabin bag was, as my mother-in-law would say, neither use nor ornament, so I’d begrudgingly paid extra for a standard 23kg hold bag. A surcharge was also paid for having the audacity to want to sit next to my wife!
Keen to get in the holiday spirit, these expenses were soon forgotten, and I wasted no time ordering a cool, refreshing beer once cabin service began. Learning that I’d save £2 if I had two beers instead of just one, I handed over another £10, only to then discover the beer was neither cool nor refreshing.
It was at this point I realised that I’d already spent more than the total cost of my ten day, full-board holiday to Yugoslavia, and I hadn’t even landed in Paris!
Now, I appreciate that holiday was 40 years ago, and I’m well aware that things have increased in price since then, but I’m an old-aged pensioner! Yes, thanks to Scotland’s OAP rule, I am now entitled to free bus travel.
I don’t mind admitting I was quite excited to apply for my free bus pass. For someone who likes to travel, this was something to celebrate. I was even prepared to overlook the fact that it was known as ‘an older person’s’ bus pass.
Unfortunately, my first application was declined because I was deemed to be smiling. Are you not allowed to smile once you reach the age of 60? My second application included the most miserable photograph I could find and a short time later, I received my pass.
Eager to try it out, particularly as it also entitled me to discounted train fares, I presented it to the ticket inspector on a train to Paisley Gilmour Street.
“Could ye no smile for the photie, pal?”
Hilarious. You couldn’t make it up!
At Paisley Gilmour Street, I boarded the bus to Glasgow Airport (no more taxis for this OAP!) only to receive the same response from the bus driver: “Could ye no smile for the photie, pal?” Then, I was both delighted and mortified when a young boy stood up and offered me his seat! I may have an ‘older person’s’ bus pass, but I don’t look like an older person… do I?
The one thing I truly love about travel is meeting people. The world is full of characters. Those who sit next to you on a bus, a train, a plane. What is their story? I like to talk, but many people don’t, so you have to be respectful of other people’s space. The answer? Ayrshire Magazine.
I discovered a long time ago, that if I leave a copy of Ayrshire Magazine in full view, it never fails to start a conversation. Recently, I sat next to an American family on a train to Stranraer. The mother asked if she could borrow the magazine and began to read. There was an article relating to the Isle of Arran. She asked me if I’d ever been and told me how much they were looking forward to visiting the island that day.
The next stop on our train from Glasgow was Ayr.
“How are you getting to Arran?” I asked.
“On a ferry from Stranraer.”
I explained that the ferry from Stranraer only goes to Northern Ireland.
“Yes. Our hotel is on the north of Arran Island.”
As I helped the family disembark at Ayr, the friendly Scotrail assistant guided them to the correct platform to return to Troon in the hope they could find their way to the Calmac ferry to Brodick.
Travel has the ability to define. To guide you on a path you maybe hadn’t considered. For me, I was born and grew up in a concrete jungle of a city. I never saw the sun rise or set. The nearest beach was two and a half hours away. The nearest water? A small stream in the local park. I sat next to it weekly, just watching the water.
My father was born in New York City. The first time I visited Manhattan Island, surrounded by water and boats, I was hooked. My happy place soon became water and beaches.
Twenty-five years ago, I visited South Ayrshire for the very first time. I saw sunrises and sunsets more beautiful than I’d witnessed anywhere else in the world, and I walked on soft, sandy beaches. Now, I’m lucky to be able to call it home. I still love to travel, but I also love coming home.
When my time comes to eventually depart this world… as the sun begins to set, my ashes will be scattered across the beautiful vast expanse of Turnberry beach… looking toward Ailsa Craig and beyond to Arran and Kintyre.
Free parking. Free sea view. And you know what? I’ll be smiling…
