Middle Class Problems: Travelling with a pets is such a faff

Flying with a dog is a right faff. There are the vaccinations, the passport, the quarantine, not to mention the lack of walkies, treats, ropes to tug, balls to fetch, slippers to chew, crotches to sniff and the many other pleasures that make a pooch's day.

On top of which, to many an airline, your prize chum is not so much the companion of a valued customer, more a particularly bothersome piece of baggage.

But there are other ways to take your best friend on holiday. He can go in the car, for a start – although that's far from perfect if you're off to a bijou country B&B, and twisty, bumpy lanes sit not well with his delicate tum-tum.

Which rather leaves the train. There is nothing so delightful as allowing the soothing hum of the modern railway to deliver you through this fair isle's rolling acres, up and down the Ordnance Survey contours with nary a breath lost in labour. Unless, that is, there is a hairy beast in tow.

For this is the reality of it. The pup may delight you with his vim in the park, but an enclosed space is no place for a wander, not when beluggaged people invariably fail to note leash strung across aisle.

The proud hound that warms your feet with his mighty head never minds that his big bonce is slobbering, too, over the size nines of the suited gent opposite. (Apologies, apologies…)

And best, really, not to dwell on the fate of the beef sandwich left on the table by said passenger. Left, and yet not left alone, with tail-wagging results.

Perhaps the ferry to France next time?