Me and my travelling companion - together at last. Photograph: Tom Miller.
Contrary to what might be expected, I find my 18th-century cello to be the perfect travelling companion. Quiet, reassuring and serene, he sits patiently in his white case on all the flights we do together, never talking back, and rarely drinking too much. The only thing that can shatter his composure is that most cello-hating of companies, British Airways.
Some of the experiences I've had with them have been astounding. Once, in front of my seven-year-old son, a BA official threatened to have me arrested for not arriving at the gate early enough.
Another time, I left a friend, the violinist Joshua Bell, in charge of my cello while I went to the bathroom. He was horrified when a a lady came into the airport lounge, picked up my instrument and started walking away with it. When he objected, her response was: "This has to go on board now - or your friend doesn't fly."
All he could do was abandon his much-beloved computer, and carry the cello on board himself. I was traumatised when I returned to find an abandoned computer and no cello - but there was no question of an apology.
That was several years ago, however, and I thought that BA had improved. Last Monday I thought that they would be on particularly good behaviour, in the light of their recent catastrophes. Wrong. Flying to Geneva, I had to wait 40 minutes at check-in while they faffed around, before being told that I'd been charged the wrong price for my cello. They would not let me on board until I had paid a fare almost 10 times as much as mine. And again, there was no hint of an apology.
So what does BA have against cellos? Surely anti-cello feeling (anticelloism?) must be an offence under some race relations act.
Is it just me, or have others had similar disasters?
