Ever since I was a little girl, the start of a holiday has always been getting up at stupid o’clock in the middle of the night, the sky still pitch black outside and not a sound to be heard as we pack up the car to head off to the airport. When I book holidays now I will always pick the earliest morning flight there is, not only because it means we get more time away, but also because my older self still loves starting holidays in this way.
Mr Ayla, on the other hand, isn’t such a massive fan of the early starts. He moans and groans about only getting a nap for a night’s sleep and he hates having to wake himself up properly if he’s the one to drive to the airport while I relax in the passenger seat.
So ahead of our long flight to Cuba I thought it only fair that he get a good night’s sleep and we decided to try out an airport hotel for the first time.