28th February 2016

It was a Saturday morning, and Sue and I were up at 7 am, both eager to escape the cold winter days of Harborough. Annoyingly, despite our plans to flee the gloom, it was bright and sunny.

By 9:30 am, we had double-checked the previous day’s packing, ensured all necessary paperwork was in order and stowed away (in duplicate) in our hand luggage, and were racing down the M1 towards Gatwick.

Our flight wasn’t until 8 pm, so we planned to have lunch at the Gatwick Manor Hotel at 12:30 pm, just a couple of minutes from the off-airport parking I had booked. What a brilliant decision that turned out to be! The hotel, a charming old Elizabethan mansion now under the Premier Inn banner, offered lovely food and acceptable beer. After our meal, we relaxed in the lounge, enjoying further refreshments and catching a bit of the Italy v Scotland Six Nations game. We left the hotel just after 3 pm, checked the car into parking, and made our way to the terminal, where we easily found the BA check-in desk.

Arriving early gave us plenty of seating options, which would later prove advantageous. Once through passport control, we passed the time at Jamie Oliver’s Bar, which happened to be showing the England v Ireland match, a fantastic result! As the game ended, our flight was called, and we headed to the departure gate to board our 12-hour Boeing 777 flight to Mauritius.

We were seated in ‘lower-class’, and on this occasion, embracing our place among the lower orders paid off handsomely. With a predominantly Anglo-Saxon passenger list, and in true class-conscious fashion, most had paid extra to escape the likes of us. This left Sue, me, and a handful of others with plenty of space to stretch out and sleep, while those in the more ‘exclusive’ front section of the plane were packed in like sardines.

During the flight, I passed the time watching ‘Legend’, featuring the Krays, along with a few other crime-themed TV shows. Sue, on the other hand, attempted to watch one film before deciding she preferred to sleep.

Years ago, I met London gangster, Reggie Kray, in Gartree Prison while lecturing on computer programming for the Home Office. He had appeared uninvited on the Education Block, and I was introduced to him as “this is Reggie” by one of the inmates. Unfortunately, I didn’t recognise him and the penny didn’t drop during our conversation. He soon left when I obviously failed to be impressed by the prison celebrity. It was an unsuccessful ploy by the inmates to curry favour with me so that at a later date I could be pressured into some indiscretion. It wasn’t until I was on my way out of the establishment that one of the warders mentioned that I had been privileged to see him; it is not everyone who gets an introduction.

The temperature on landing was a stark contrast to the chilly weather we’d left behind. However, Mauritius Airport, with its well-laid-out and relaxed atmosphere, made for a pleasant arrival. Surrounded by stunning scenery, it was a shame we didn’t have a window seat for the descent. After landing, I exchanged some currency in the terminal before we located our transfer to the Veranda Palmar Beach Hotel.

Our friendly driver, a cheerful Muslim gentleman, kept us entertained with his commentary during the 45-minute journey along the coast. We found common ground in our opinions about Russian tourists, agreeing that they can sometimes be antisocial and better off staying in their homeland. As it turned out, I’d see him again later that afternoon after I realised I’d left my reading glasses in the taxi.

Upon arrival, we checked into our air-conditioned ground-floor room, conveniently located just steps from the reception and pool.

My first unwanted skirmish with Mauritian wildlife came during a walk along the beach, which is shared with several other resorts. The sparkling turquoise ocean looked so inviting that I couldn’t resist slipping off my sandals, determined to join the many already splashing in the waves. I strode off to savour the Indian Ocean.

However, two steps in, I found myself standing on what I thought was some soft, mossy seaweed, only to discover a spiny sea urchin lurking beneath. I didn’t even make it to the water’s edge! Instead, I spent a decidedly unpleasant hour back in our room, with Sue brandishing tweezers and a needle, enthusiastically digging holes as if it were an Olympic event to extricate the dozens of tiny black tips of barbs.

With most of the spines successfully removed from my sore sole, we made another attempt at the beach and, with sandals on, took a left turn along the beach, and this time, we succeeded without mishap. We wandered about a mile and a half along the white coral sands, weaving through a crowd of mostly French holidaymakers, before eventually retreating to the comfort of our air-conditioned haven.

Later, as evening set in, we ventured out once more, this time tackling the equally tricky right turn on the beach. Triumphantly, again, we avoided any further encounters with nature’s hidden hazards. By the time we made it back to our room, darkness had fallen, and we felt victorious.

That evening, we enjoyed a buffet lunch in the hotel restaurant, planning to stay on and watch the karaoke in the bar afterwards. However, our enthusiasm didn’t last long, and two sleepy Brits soon headed back to the room, off to metaphorically “mow a meadow” with a much-needed sleep.