There is no doubt that the days when boarding a plane was almost pleasant are never going to return. Terrorism has seen to that. In addition in our case, having to use Ryan Air does not render the airport experience any better.

The airline has eased the problems of passengers being able to opt out of travel insurance, which is offered repeatedly on their website; seemingly on every page. The days when you had to look and find “Don’t insure me” under Denmark or “No insurance needed” above Norway have gone, but they have changed their boarding pass facility. We, along with another couple, wondered whether we had the right type of boarding pass as we queued at Carcassonne to check in. The boarding cards had changed but several passengers around us had the old-type boarding pass. As it transpired, our boarding passes were valid.

However, when I attempted to print a boarding pass for the return trip, I kept being shown the original flight and told those boarding passes were not available. I joined the Ryan Air chat line, which was about as much use as a chocolate fireguard, and they seemed to think the answer was to check in on line, which of course I had undertaken and such was my problem. Eventually I resolved the problem myself but again the so-called friendly website was anything but.

There is another worry about check-ins. Are your bags overweight? You check and cross-check them on scales opting for being on the safe side but sometimes you find you are underweight when you reach the check in. As it happened I had ordered an extra bag but when I tried to change this to 20kg, there seemed no way of doing so. You had to order yet another bag instead. So friendly.

Our flight to France was at 8.20am so around 6.00am I pulled up outside Stansted terminal, unloaded the bags onto a trolley and left Ellie to wheel it in while I took the hire car back. On exiting the road in front of the terminal, I joined a queue of cars and realised we had to pay a toll. I opened my wallet and took out my debit card while the man in front of me seemed to have particular trouble in working the toll machine. He came to me to help and we both attempted to solve the problem. The cost was £2.50 for dropping people or cases off, but I had emptied my pocket and did not have the change.

Now you can pay by card but the card entry slot is so low, you have to exit your car to reach it. That is not easy as you have driven up close to the machine. His card would not register. Eventually we were joined by an official, who had no luck in registering the man’s card, while I stood with my hands in my pockets and exclaimed to myself: “What’s this?” To my surprise my hand emerged clutching two one-pound coins and a 50p piece from a different pocket.

Clearly it had been equally exasperating for a previous driver: the glass screen had been cracked by a fist.

Eventually it was my turn and, with the change, I filed through and took the car back, caught the shuttle and returned to the terminal. Here Ellie was confused. There was a queue for our flight but there was a barrier across it. We unhitched the tape and moved through, followed by several others.

It transpired that Ryan Air had introduced a scan your boarding pass facility and you weighed each bag. Foolishly we were told by a very efficient blonde, who strutted about, lacking only a swagger stick, that we had joined the wrong queue. We were directed to the scan-and-weigh queue and there we had difficulty. One bag was overweight: another was underweight. So we only received a ticket for one bag. We tried another boarding pass and the same thing happened. Whereas you can total 30kgs with two bags and be allowed through because they average 15kgs at the human check-in, the machines do not cater for such customer service. We were directed back to the old queue, where we greeted by the blonde cattle-prodder who told us to return to the bag-and-weigh. We in turn informed her the official there had sent us back as two bags did not register. She was not best-pleased: obviously she was used to being obeyed.

When we reached the check-in desk, the lady checked our bags; found two slightly overweight and one dead on, while the fourth was underweight. I realised I would have to pay £20 for two kilos of excess but the lady checked them again and, admitting she was no good at maths, ticketed all four through.

We were a little bit frayed by then. We headed for the security and there removed shoes and belts, hat, jackets, coats, lap-tops, phones, wallet, handbag, loose change and liquids. The person in front of me had a problem and had to go back through the screen. The delay was fraught as my lap-top, new phone, wallet, Ellie’s kindle, phone and my tablet were just lying there far up the ramp, as having passed muster. What happens if one of them is stolen? There is also a question of how long you really want to walk around holding your trousers up when minus a belt.

Finally the lady in front removed sufficient outerwear not to make the alarm ring and I followed swiftly behind her.

My belongings were intact. You then have to go through the laborious list of putting on your belt and housing your phone etc in the respective bags and pockets.

“Would you move along sir?” I was asked.

I pointed out there were no facilities to stack my belongings, or seats to help me to put on my shoes. Threading a belt takes a set time.

Finally we made it, although we did lose each other for a while before meeting up at the Gate. There is not a short cut to the departure gates. Now you have to wander, as if you are visiting Ikea, through a winding path full of hesitant shoppers as it seems you pass through countless shops offering you their expensive wares.

“That’s over,” said Ellie but I pointed out we still had to hope the car-hire firm had not spotted some insignificant pebble chip on the car and I would have to go through claiming back on hire car insurance. As it happened they did not find a scratch.

On the plane I mentioned that I might opt for driving back in April. It saves much aggravation and you can carry more.

We landed in Carcassonne, our older car started first time (after I had reconnected the battery) and we headed back over the Black Mountain to Mazamet and the boarding kennels, feeling relief that all was well and we were back home.

Two very happy dogs raced out and smothered us with affection. It was then one considered it had all been worthwhile. We had a good holiday, seen family and friends and, despite the tensions and being herded like cattle through the terminal and onto the plane, we had made it. The house was still standing: there were no unexpected bills or problems. All things considered, it was a day that increased in well-being, the nearer we got to our destination.