Tric Kearney: 'We don't have a great track record with check-in...'

THIS weekend yer man and I are jetting off to a foreign city for a few days. It was a complete surprise, given to us by our children as a Christmas gift. No doubt as a thank you for the amazing job we have done as parents, so I suppose we shouldn’t have been so surprised, writes Tric Kearney.

There certainly are benefits to your children growing up.

I remember when they were young the anticipation of a night away would almost kill us. We couldn’t imagine sleeping all night undisturbed, not to mention lying in the next day?

Yet despite our children getting older, it is still rare for us to holiday alone. Would you believe that each year when we arrange a sun holiday, by some amazing coincidence they are all free that very week? Although the year we decided to walk Scotland’s West Highland Way the dates just didn’t suit them.

I do have one slight concern about our weekend away. Not the fact that yer man and myself will actually have to hang out and talk to each other 24/7, but the flight. We don’t have a great track record with check-in, often arriving last minute, occasionally without passports and once without a ticket.

One of my earliest near misses involved an early morning flight to Luton after a night duty nursing shift. Having checked in I phoned my mum to reassure her I’d made it. As we were chatting she said, “Is that your name they are calling?”

It was. I raced to the gate. The plane was one of those tiny ones and I ran in the door Brigid Jones-like, to be met by a sea of suited men. I sat in the only free place and smiled at the dapper suited gentleman beside me with lovely aftershave. That’s all I remember. I woke an hour later as we were landing, nestled on the chest of my fellow passenger.

Remarkably despite many close shaves, we have never missed a flight. I like to say, “God loves a chancer,” when we make it. My mother says, “The devil looks after his own.”

Our most memorable near-miss took place at Bangkok airport. We were newly engaged and were embarking on a two-year adventure to Australia. Misjudging travel times, we arrived late and found ourselves last in a very long line. I went into a rage insisting I was never late for anything until I’d met yer man, a slight untruth.

Mid-rant an elderly couple arrived even later than ourselves which quietened me.

As we reached the top of the queue Mrs Old Lady pushed past me. I thought she’d stumbled so said nothing only to hear her shout for Mr Old Man to bring the bags. Fuming, we listened as the steward informed them they’d have to sit separately. I gave himself a look which said, ‘I can’t believe we’ll be separated’. The look may also have said, ‘I may kill you at any moment’.

Finally, us two Paddy last’s stepped forward.

“I’m sorry the plane is full,” said the air steward.

‘He’s definitely dead’, I thought as she continued, “However we can accommodate you both in first class.”

First class! Yer man never recovered and spent much of the trip excusing himself to spy on Mr and Mrs Old and filling me in on how they were doing as we sat on what could have been their seats.

Our tardiness has not always been so fruitful and regularly involves huge relief as we take our seats.

However, this trip we’ve both decided we’re too old for last minute. We plan on leaving home on time, arriving at the airport early and walking in a leisurely manner to our plane.

Unfortunately, that’s always our plan.