By the time this appears, I should be spending my last day in Kirkwall, having gone last Friday with a friend for a short holiday. It has been tricky to say the least. I booked our flights with BA up to Aberdeen and then on Loganair to Kirkwall, with flights back stopping to board BA in Edinburgh. I duly paid. Then last week I was checking up and discovered that Loganair had cancelled our flight to Edinburgh.

You try contacting BA. There is one word for it: nightmare. First, you have to get past the robot – AI is really stupid – then a long wait getting someone in a call centre who has never heard of Kirkwall let alone Loganair. The outcome was I tried to book a different flight south and ended up with one on Loganair that will take us to Glasgow and then to Heathrow but for which I had to pay. Now somehow I have to get a refund for the other return flight but that process I have still to start.

Anyway, back to customer services and, after pointing out that my bank statement showed I had paid, the person I was talking to said that they would discuss this with someone higher up. On came that music that drives one mad, although not, thank heavens, anything by Vivaldi. I then got issued e-ticket receipts for our flights back tomorrow. Having checked my customer executive club details on BA they do indeed exist and I have printed out 17 pages all about them. But no way could I get BA to issue our boarding cards for the flights up, possibly because last Thursday, when they should have been available, they were still reeling from that glitch that stranded all those people in European holiday resorts.

I do keep lamenting how things get worse the more technology engulfs us but once upon a time I would have gone to the nearest BA office and talked face to face with a human being. The reason I booked directly with BA is that the pandemic caused the cancellation of a flight and BA would have nothing to do with refunding it because I had booked through Expedia. To be fair to Expedia, when I did get a human being to talk to, the human talked to BA and I got the money back. But travel agents are hard to find these days.

As it is we have to check in at Kirkwall for our return flight tomorrow so who knows what will happen when we get to the airport. I am assured by a friend who uses Loganair regularly that it is actually run by sensible people – more than I can say for BA. Airlines used to be known by their initials – the Brazilian TAP was Take Another Plane; SABENA was Such a Bad Experience, Never Again; Alitalia was Always Late; and Ryanair was Rottenair. As for BA – need I spell it out?

Bill Russell



Last week Mohamed Al-Fayed died aged 94, leaving business interests worth two billion US dollars. Not a bad haul for the son of a primary school teacher from Alexandria, Egypt. A haul, however, littered with extraordinary activities and relationships, including a failed interest in an oil refinery in Haiti which ended when a sample of the crude oil proved to be molasses.

He then moved to England, hooked up with the Maktoums of Dubai, and began a fabulous journey to riches and international success. It also brought him into contact with an embittered Princess Diana and set in train the events that culminated with the death of his son Dodi and Diana in a Parisian underpass. So, naturally, when Fayed died one thought of King Charles – and collateral damage.

Well, not naturally, but because my tortuous mind remembered that Diana in her happier days had been Super Sloane, the star of that firmament firmly rooted in the West End of London round Kensington and Chelsea. And Charles had been its apogee.

Folk remember Prince Charles as a plant lover and talker. He was also a relentless hunter. To quote the Sloane Ranger Diary: 'He is a kind man but has the Sloane view of death. He lives within reach of four hunts – the Beaufort, the Berkeley, the Cotswold, and the Heathrop – but four are not enough...  HRH gallops the length and breadth of the country in search of the redder fox'. Regularly in the season, he would ask a master whether a hunt would like to give him a day's sport. Instantly, all gates were opened and the master pulled in the best bits of the Wednesday and Saturday country. HRH arrived wearing a cap whether the local rule was top hats or no top hats. The royal head had to be protected before the crown came round. The field, of course, were thrilled to have him.

Al-Fayed's spurious conspiracy claims that his son and Diana were killed on the orders of Prince Philip were proven to be fantasy by exhaustive inquests and investigations. They were, nonetheless, another sad fragment in the list linked to the Crown. But, as they say, Charles is a kind man. Unless, for example, you are a fox.

David Donald



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