How do I hate Ryanair? Let me count the ways.
First, they charged me £100 to change the name on my £29 ticket; then they wouldn’t let me take my newly bought cappuccino on the plane (“Ryanair rules”, apparently); then, when my blood was boiling, the stewardess ticked me off for undoing my seat belt, even though we were stationary.
Every time I’ve flown with them, there’s been some reason why the cheap flight ended up costing me a packet, and every time I swear I will never, ever, ever do it again.
Yet somehow time passes and the irritation recedes, or you need to get to somewhere like Prestwick and they’re the only ones who fly there. They call it Glasgow (Prestwick), which would be a typical Ryanair bore if you wanted to go to Glasgow, a good 50 minutes away by train. Fortunately, this time, it was Prestwick I wanted to go to — or rather its neighbour, Ayr.
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Anyway, I’m glad I flew to Prestwick, because, if I hadn’t, I’d never have believed any airport could boast a slogan quite as crass, inept and plain wrong as “Pure Dead Brilliant”, which is plastered over everything in bright pink jaunty writing. It’s apparently a local expression that means wicked, cool, fabulous, super-duper — and the staff came up with it during a brainstorming, focus-group day. Er, right.
Did nobody think that branding an airport “dead” was not a fantastically brilliant idea? Had they forgotten that people die when planes fall out of the sky or crash on runways, or when fanatics bomb the departure lounge (which someone tried to do at Glasgow’s real airport a few years ago; as a result, it is surrounded by steel bollards)?
Anyway, once you’ve recovered from the airport, Ayr is lovely. It has a long sandy beach, with mountains behind, is at the mouth of the Clyde and has not one but two bridges immortalised by Rabbie Burns, who was born in nearby Alloway. In fact, the locals wanted to name the airport in his honour; they could even have used a Burns line for the slogan. Doh!
So, those bridges. The old one dates from 1232, the new from 1786; Burns wrote a poem called the Brigs of Ayr, published in 1787, which takes the form of a dialogue between them. “Conceited gowk! puff’d up wi’ windy pride!” the cantankerous old one declares.
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“This mony a year I’ve stood the flood an’ tide; And tho’ wi’ crazy eild I’m sair forfairn, I’ll be a brig when ye’re a shapeless cairn!”
As oldies so often are, it was right. A century later, the new bridge collapsed, to much local merriment. I hope Prestwick’s slogan isn’t so prophetic.
As well as history and proximity to some of the finest golf courses in the world — Royal Troon, Turnberry, Prestwick — Ayr has stunning Scottish Georgian houses. Perhaps the finest is Barns House, a fat pile on a quiet crescent near the centre of town and the beach. By southern English standards, it’s a steal, on the market, as the Scottish system puts it, for “offers over £695,000”.
The owners want to sell quickly — a less good specimen round the corner is on the market for £100,000 more.
This is a properly grand Category A-listed house, nearly 4,000 sq ft, with amazing historical features, including a butler’s pantry with the original drawers, shelves and a wooden sink, so he didn’t break the precious glasses.
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So, come salivate with me. You drive in through big gates into a large gravel turning circle. There are two front doors, one on the side for use when the wind is howling. (In 1750, when the house was built, there was nothing between it and the sea.) The hall is stone-flagged, with an imposing staircase up to a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the walled inner garden. There is a big outer one as well.
The owner, Morna, a hospitable Northern Irish lady who made me a cake, says the garden was so overgrown when they bought the house, it was only after scything the vegetation that they discovered the huge ornamental stone balls that adorn the inner garden walls.
Ayr, shielded from Atlantic storms by the Isle of Arran (the rain falls on its mountains first), has a warm microclimate; the garden has palms and fig trees. To the right of the hall is a large dining room (home to many a raucous dinner party, according to Morna); to the left, a sunny morning room.
The house also has a large refurbished kitchen, a sweet maid’s bedroom and sundry back regions. On the first floor are a sumptuous double-aspect drawing room, an amazingly grand bedroom with gold cornicing and a fabulous four-poster, a couple of bathrooms and two more bedrooms. Up another flight of stairs are two large attic rooms with bay windows and pipe radiators. The house has two boilers and an Aga, but this is Scotland, after all.
Gosh, it’s tempting. All that house for the price of my London terrace. It’s also by the sea, near excellent schools, and is only an hour from the capital — by Ryanair, that is.
Barns House, Ayrshire, £695,000 o/o
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What is it? A six-bedroom Georgian house
Where is it? In Ayr, near the town centre and beach
Who is selling? Strutt & Parker; 0141 225 3880
If you’d like Eleanor to look at a property you’re selling, email btb@sundaytimes.co.uk