Bown's Best - Virgin Atlantic Upper Class, Airlines

AIRLINES
VIRGIN ATLANTIC UPPER CLASS

Virgin Atlantic Upper Class I have just experienced a miracle. I have slept as I flew across the Atlantic. And the cause of this mighty wonder was the Upper Class service on Virgin Atlantic.

Now, as miracles go, this might not seem the most earth-shattering. But, for me – the most insomniac flyer on the planet – this suspension of the natural order was the cause of joy and wonder. Usually, as my fellow passengers switch off their lights and blissfully drift off to the Land of Nod, I am left on my solitary watch, turning page after page of the latest Bradbury or Lodge, knowing that I will arrive at my destination grumpy and exhausted. But not with the new Virgin Upper Class. My trip to San Francisco was a revelation.

Even before getting on the plane, Virgin took good care of me. I like their clubhouses. At the one at Heathrow I can have my Cleverley’s brogues shined and my golden locks trimmed, and even have a shower. It is good to start a journey with gleaming shoes, smart hair and a pleasing fragrance. I can also eat surprisingly well. On this occasion I sat in a dark brown leather armchair, next to a wooden model of an ancient man o’ war, and tucked into a ‘Bigger Bite’ spinach and cheese agnolotti pasta and a ‘Naughty But Nice’ lemon tart with custard.

In San Francisco the Clubhouse is, appropriately, more New World. Blue light and minimalism are the themes. Ensconced in an enveloping red seat, I relaxed in the quietness, looked out to the waters of the Bay and down at the aircraft on the runway and nibbled on a Clubhouse salad of green leaves, warm goat’s cheese, caramelized pecan nuts and thyme vinaigrette. In both London and San Francisco the members of staff I encountered were unfailingly pleasant and helpful.

But, of course, the miracle was in the Upper Class cabin. The first thing which struck me was the sense of privacy. Now, of course, I am a jolly, gregarious sort of chap. But, on an aeroplane, I really do want to be on my own – so I took immediately to this arrangement of the seats. Each is separate, has a wall on either side, and points at an angle into the cabin – so that you can go to and from your seat at any time without disturbing your neighbour.

I sat on this soft and comfortable purple leather throne and found that, facing me, was a small seat – which proved useful as a footstool – whose real purpose was soon to be revealed. But first there was some eating to be done. Upper Class offers a ‘Freedom Menu’, which meant that I could have ordered anything from the menu to be delivered at any time, but I was happy to go along with the normal regime of a full meal after take-off and some more modest comestibles shortly before landing. Eating at 35,000 feet is never going to be as good as eating on the ground – the mechanics of providing the food and effect of the compressed air on the taste-buds see to that – but I was impressed by my salad of mozzarella and prosciutto, my poached salmon (surprisingly tasty and not over-cooked), my cheeses (cheddar, brie and buttermilk blue) and my ice cream (about the only dish in the world which consistently retains 100 per cent of its flavour in the air). An enjoyable meal.

With it there was a respectable choice of 7 wines. My palate finds that whites with clear, distinct flavours hold up best in the air. Sauvignon blanc of the gooseberry variety and big, buttery chardonnay are the wines to look for – so I was pleased to find a good Sancerre (Domaine du Rochoy, 2002) and a 2003 Australian chardonnay (Ingoldby, McLaren Vale).

Virgin Atlantic Upper Class My repast complete, I was offered a ‘sleeping suit’. I would have loved to try this, but my stiff old frame would not contemplate the necessary contortions in the loo. And then came the magical moment. Would, asked the charming stewardess, I like my seat to be converted into a bed? You bet I would. I stood aside and she pressed a button. The back of my seat came forward and lined itself up with the ‘footstool’ (whose purpose was now clear) to make a long, completely flat bed. Out came a duvet and a pillow. I clambered onto the bed and realised at once that what was really important was that it was perfectly horizontal. There was no slope at all. And this meant that I did not have that awful experience, common to all sloping seats, of feeling that all my blood was rushing into my legs. This was a proper bed.

But would I be able to sleep? I turned this way and that and thought it unlikely. And then, mirabile dictu, I was being woken up in time for breakfast. Surely, it could not be true? Yet it was. I had slept my way across the Atlantic. Bliss unconfined. Seldom have cornflakes and a bacon roll been eaten with such relish.

This wonderful sleep makes the £6,143 for the fully flexible return ticket a bargain. And, if you are able to plan ahead and take advantage of the substantial savings offered by the Apex tickets, this becomes a bargain of remarkable proportions. So, let me proclaim with all the enthusiasm of a convert: Virgin Atlantic Upper Class performs miracles.

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