Yes, we're flying on Kingfisher Airlines - named after India's premier (if rather lightweight) alcoholic beverage.
Something inside of me railed against booking this airline. It is a young company, with a fleet of new(ish) jets, so all should bode well...non? Still, there is something disconcerting about a jumbo jet named after a beer. There just is. Though I suppose the husband is rather pleased , as at least it means there's a fairly good chance he'll be able to whet his lips with the stuff throughout the fourteen hour journey.
We have provisionally booked our return tickets for 31st August. Ironically this is our wedding anniversary. It is also the day before school starts for the boys...if indeed we make it back for that. Who knows? We have however had the foresight to pay the higher fare on the tickets just in case we choose to avail ourselves of the 'one free change Madam' option.
So that gives us precisely 6 and a half months to opt out of society, live as beach bums, and try and create between us some sort of artistic work which will merit us yanking out our newly labelled 'gifted' child Egg from the South London Educational System.
When I informed the deputy head of his school this morning of our intentions, she grinned wryly and I suspect that she thinks we're needlessly exposing our offspring to malaria for the sole purpose of wearing tie-dye and exercising our right to throw some fiercesome shapes to bad 'Trance' music.
Egg's teacher also grinned upon hearing the news. However it was one of encouragement and approval. (This could however, be related to her having spent some time India herself and being all of about 24 years old).
As I recall, 24 was round about the age the husband and I traversed the sub-continent on a motorcycle together - so this reunited love affair with our dear India is well overdue.
And I've changed my mind. I'm glad we're flying there in a giant beer bottle.