How not to catch a 7:30 flight...

Stage 1. Instead of making good use of your afternoon to get to Stansted nice and early, potter around the Tate Modern gallery until about 4 o'clock.

Stage 2. Now start working out how to get back to Kensington High Street.

Stage 3. Arrive in Kensington but instead of rushing back to hotel dither around looking for that ice cream that suddenly seems so important.

Stage 4. Give up on ice cream quest and settle for some sort of milkshake thingy from Cafe Nero.

Stage 5. NOW wander down to hotel & wait for ages for luggage to be retrieved from some subterranean vault.

Stage 6. Return to Tube station and find that mysteriously, the trains are packed with commuters.

Stage 7. Seriously begin to panic as train crawls around the circle line stopping mid-tunnel frequently.

Stage 8. Reach Liverpool street in a flap and run to Stansted Express. Get on train and realise that it's one of the "slow" ones that stops several times on the way.

Stage 9. Check timetable and realise that you're going to miss the cutoff time to check in baggage.

Stage 10. Repack four bags into two bags discarding cloths, sandals, computer bag, books and other sundry items. Wear raincoat and fill pockets with books, cameras and other junk. All this done on a crowded train with standing room only for extra pleasure. ;-)

Stage 11. Reach Stansted and race across concourse to security, packing make-up etc. into plastic bag on the way. Stuff rucksac and computer bag into bin on way to security and hope that my dirty underwear and other sundry items don't precipitate a terrorist alert. Hold breath whilst going through security and pray that luggage doesn't get weighed. (At this point we got lucky)

Stage 12. Remember that you didn't remove nail scissors & file as luggage goes through x-ray scanner.

Stage 13. Breathe huge sigh of relief as scanning technician ignores said items.

Stage 14. Grab bags and run hell for leather through the departure lounge where the screens are reading "Final call" for your flight at some god-forsaken gate that you swear must be the furthest one they could find from the lounge.

Stage 15. Reach gate 45 in a puddle of sweat (remember that I'm wearing my rain coat) with just a few minutes to spare.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>> PHEW! <<<<<<<<<<<<<<

To cap it all, on arrival at Prestwick, couldn't get out of car park as no one was answering the intercom to take our booking code.

I'm sure that there's got to be a less stressful way to travel!