Last time I came to Canada on Air Transat, in 2011 , we made landfall at the Hamilton Inlet and followed the Trans-Labrador Highway, scene of my adventures in 2010 to the St Lawrrence.

This year we followed the more conventional route along the southern shore of the St Lawrence in order to arrive at Montreal, and here we are banking to turn to starboard to cross the river in order to join the descent path to Dorval.

Once at Dorval, at a proper space at a terminal not like in 2011 I could take a decent photo of our aeroplane, and no-one pounced on me at all.

C-GKTS is our aeroplane. It's a 1995 Airbus A330-342 and formerly carried serial numbers VR-HYC (from new until 14th July 1997) and B-HYC (from 14th July 1997) with its previous owner, the Hong Kong carrier Dragonair . It acquired its current serial number when it joined the Air Transat fleet on 21st October 1999.

No-one pounced on me here either as I took a photo of the arrivals hall at the airport, and that took me by surprise.

Not the lack of pouncing, I mean (although I did expect someone to say something), but the arrivals hall itself, because it was for all intents and purposes empty. I've never ever seen it looking like this, and I do recall one occasion when we were in a queue that was backed up right to this point.

Just for a change, immigration was relatively stress-free and once I'd been processed by the Canadian authorities, off I went to the baggage collection point.

First thing that I (and several other passengers) noticed on the carousel was the plastic bits and pieces that were quite evidently at one time part of someone's suitcase. Yes, Québecois baggage handlers - you can't beat them. They haven't quite made the transition to modern luggage from bedrolls wrapped in a blanket and secured with the strings off one's snowshoes.

However Québecois baggage handlers are not quite as famous as the baggage handlers for the old SABENA - which, as everyone knows, stands for "Such A Bad Experience - Never Again!"

When SABENA launched its daily early-morning service from Brussels to Singapore, the whole airport was plastered with advertisements
"Breakfast in Brussels - Supper in Singapore"
and some wag had gone around almost every one and with a big black felt-tip pen, had written underneath
"and Luggage in London!"

But having not been pounced upon while photographing the plane and photographing the arrivals hall, I was pounced upon in the arrivals lounge. Apparently some miserable barsteward had objected to Strawberry Moose having his photograph taken at the "Welcome" desk upon his arrival.

What kind of "Welcome" is all of this nonsense?

Of course, Strawberry Moose poses such a threat to world security, does our Strawberry Moose. He can bring down the Twin Towers single-handedly as well as blowing up half of Belfast and half of Montreal as of course you know.

Anyway, my response to this was quite simple. I just waited until everyone had left the area and the excitement had died down, and then Strawberry Moose and I went back to the Welcome Desk and took the photo again.

But what a state to get into - being frightened by Strawberry Moose. You really can't make it up. Some of these people in "authority" need to get a life.

But before we leave the airport, it's probably an appropriate moment for me to say a few words about Air Transat, because if you have been reading very carefully what I have written about the airline you might be thinking that either I'm extremely disenchanted with the company, or else I have what might be called in certain circles "another agenda".

Well, nothing is further from the truth.

As I said earlier, flying Air Transat is like flying a long-distance Ryanair, and while the latter company has attracted an extreme amount of negative publicity, its financial success and its loading capacity speak for themselves and are the envy of most other airlines (from which most of the negative criticism undoubtedly comes - its other name is, of course "jealousy").

Air Transat, in trying to emulate Ryanair by likewise adopting the old E J Gubay principle of "pile it high, sell it cheap", can also match the loading capacity of Ryanair. I didn't see an empty seat on the plane.

And this is the key to what Air Transat is all about. It has no frills, no luxuries, no little extras, but it's by far the cheapest way of flying to Canada. I have to pay for my own ticket and so price is everything, as it is for most people on the flight.

Just as with Ryanair, the only people who complain about the no-frills approach are those on an expense-account junket who don't receive the complimentary whisky, and also the inevitable (usually British) cheapskates who are happy to pay busfare prices but expect a five-star Rolls-Royce limousine in return.

I've always been well-treated on an Air Transat flight and even with my special dietary requirements, the company has never let me down.

While I would like an extra three inches of legroom, I'm not going to pay an extra €400 to have it. I can do an awful lot of other things with €400 and I can always go and stretch my legs on the porcelain horse for five minutes every couple of hours, full-length mirrors notwithstanding.

One of the advantages of e-mailing the hotel the day before my departure is that the hotel shuttle bus is already at the terminal waiting for me, and that is a very welcome sight indeed.

My hotel is not too far away from the airport, and it's a departure from my normal state of affairs in that it's not a "Comfort Hotel or similar" as has been the case in previous years. But there's a very good reason for this, more of which anon.

While Strawberry Moose peruses the menu, I peruse the room.

I'm reasonably impressed with my choice of hotel, as I ought to be, seeing as how it does cost slightly more. However, the in-room coffee is the typical North American offering - back home, I wouldn't wash Caliburn's windscreen with it.

The positive side of thigs is that there's a "Subway" just across the road and a Tim Horton's just down the street. What more could any man desire, apart from Jenny Agutter coming in to warm my bed for me, of course?

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