Meals on flights and travellers’ cheques: sun holidays of past

These days, we jump on a plane to go on a holiday without thinking twice about it.

Book something online, throw a few things into a bag, and as long as you have your port and your wallet, you’re good to go.

Spain, Portugal, the Canaries… here we come.

It wasn’t always like that though. There was a time when going on a continental holiday was a big deal.

Getting a brochure from a travel agent was the first step. Flicking through it was exciting... so many choices with lovely swimming pools and sandy beaches to choose from.

Once you found the spot that suited your pocket, it was back up to the travel agent to sign up. That’s when the excitement really kicked in. We’re nearly off - but not quite yet. There were other matters to be attended to first.

Next thing was a trip to the bank to get some travellers’ cheques. For those of you who have no idea what they were, let me explain.

They came in book form and each cheque was made out in an amount of the local currency, so you took it to a bank at your holiday destination and cashed one in whenever you needed money. Sometimes, the hotel would even cash them.

There were other considerations too before you went on holiday abroad, like what kind of food will they have in Spain? Will we be able to eat any of it? And how will we make ourselves understood when we don’t speak the language? Maybe we should bring our own food...

And many people did back then. The thought of having to survive without the Barrys tea, the Kerrygold butter, Bachelors beans and the Clonakilty pudding was too much to bear for some, so they brought that stuff with them.

Result: A 20kg suitcase stuffed with 18kg of essential foodstuff.

The flight alone was an adventure and full of wonder in those days. How will the plane even take off with all this food on board?

The instructions at the beginning of the flight by the cabin crew air hostesses back then were listened to attentively because we hadn’t a clue. We even had to be shown how to buckle up.

We used to get fed in mid-air in those days too. Imagine getting a meal at 30,000 feet on the way to Santa Ponsa - pure luxury.

Then, when the plane hit the runway, everybody clapped with relief that we had actually survived the journey and had avoided ending up in the ocean.

Stepping out of the aircraft into a wall of heat was the first sign you had arrived. Unfortunately, it was often accompanied by a smell suggesting a toilet somewhere nearby needed to be flushed, but nobody cared about that. The holiday was about to begin. Let’s get at the sangria.

But first, there was a bus ride to be experienced. If you were lucky enough to have a hotel near the airport, then you would be one of the first to be dropped off. Otherwise, you sat quietly in your seat until, after what seemed like a tour of the entire country, you reached your own destination.

Check in and throw the bags on the bed, then into the shorts and out to explore the area with your white legs and arms and not a dot of suncream. Spend an hour walking around wide- eyed and excited, but wondering after a couple of hours how you got red and sore.

Once you had unpacked and got yourself sorted, the next item on the agenda was organising the postcards. As soon as you made your list of who needed to get one - which was pretty much anyone you ever came into with - it was off to the card shop.

Everyone wrote more or less the same thing, as far as I could see. “Weather here is fantastic. Having a great time, wish you were here, see you soon.”

Given that you had just landed in the place, “Having a great time” was stretching things a bit, but you reckoned you would be by the time they got the card so that was OK.

It was important to get the postcards sorted early because you wanted to get them off as soon as possible. You didn’t want to be home before the cards arrived or you might seem like a bit of a plonker, but unfortunately, that’s exactly what happened in most cases.

Once the cards were addressed and stamped, you dropped them off at reception and the nice people there did the rest for you. Except they didn’t.

They mostly dropped the cards into a box under the counter, and the contents of that box only went to the post office when it reached over-flowing and started getting in the way.

So, it wasn’t unusual for holiday postcards to arrive at your mother’s house after winter had set in, and she was left wondering all the while why the miserable sods hadn’t bothered to send a card.

The greeting card business took a serious hit with the advent of the internet and social media. It’s so easy now to let someone know you’re thinking about them on their birthday or whatever, with just a click of a button. It’s more convenient and much cheaper too.

A lot of things have changed since then and we take a lot for granted now.

The mystery is gone from flying, as are the complimentary meals for most short flights.

It’s unusual these days to hear engers clapping their safe landing as we’ve all become so familiar with air travel.

Something that’s changed for the worse, is the behaviour of some engers on planes these days. Drunk and abusive idiots giving the cabin crews a hard time, something I never happening back in the 1970s.

An unfortunate by-product of progress, I suppose.