We left for Bristol airport a couple of minutes after 4am on Tuesday 12th February.
One of our group - let's call him Paul (actually that IS his real name - although we call him "Smiley Paul". I could have 'changed the name to protect the innocent' but, in truth, I think he NEEDS to be named and shamed!) - had arrived in Plymouth the night before so we could all travel up in the same car.
Paul's what you might call..... scatty 
!
He'd already realised he'd forgotten to pack a beach towel and had to borrow one.
Only to find, when we got there, that he hadn't forgotten at all! Now he had two!
This was just the start of a week of events that kept us laughing at Paul's expense.
Can anyone have failed to realise there are now restrictions on what you can carry in your hand luggage on a plane? Yep! Smiley Paul!
We arrived at the airport in good time and checked in our bags.
"Have you packed them yourselves?", "Has anyone asked you to carry anything for them?", "Do you have any of these things in your hand luggage?" asked the girl on the desk, pointing to a poster outlining all the things you mustn't carry.
"What did she say?" asked Paul. "She's checking you haven't any liquids or sharp objects in your bag."
Pretty straight forward really.
We then joined the (already very long) queue to pass through security and into the departure lounge. The same posters we'd had pointed out at check-in were dotted along the route. No liquids, no gels, no pastes etc.
There were display cases showing some of the items that had already been confiscated from previous travellers. We even discussed the new security measures between the four of us, agreeing that even though it was a long, drawn out process these days, we'd rather be safe than sorry.
And so it was that Laura, Ian and I passed quickly and hassle-free through the scanners and started walking off the other side, before turning back to see Smiley Paul being confronted by a big burly security guard asking him to empty his hand luggage.
Over £40 worth of suntan lotion, aftersun, shampoo, toothpaste, water etc etc was confiscated. Much to Paul's total amazement and disbelief.
"I didn't realise THAT was included in the ban!"
But despite his protestations, he was sent away with a flea in his ear with a suggestion that he might like to pay a visit to Superdrug in the departure lounge!
WHAT A NIGHTMARE!
And you'd be forgiven for thinking that's where it ended. But no! Smiley Paul then spent another £40 or so replacing everything he'd lost - only to find later, when we arrived, that he hadn't!
He'd NOT replaced what had been taken from his hand luggage. Instead, he'd duplicated the other grooming products he'd packed in his suitcase!
You get the picture by now. Smiley Paul is great. Really. Every holiday should have one! 
FLYING HIGH
The flight to Banjul is just about long enough really. Six hours on a plane is beginning to push the limits for me.
I have done longer trips (10 hours to Mexico) but by the time I've watched two crappy movies, had a coffee and a snack, shuffled around to try and get comfortable in a seat that could ideally do with at least another 4" of leg room and read the safety leaflet three times, I'm ready to get off.
Having said that, it was as comfortable a flight as you could ask for - with clear blue skies most of the way and the minimum of turbulance. (Typical, though, that the plane should start rock and rolling at the very time I decide to have a wee and ended up trying to balance with my head leaning against the wall, legs spread and trying desperately not to miss! "Ladies and Gentlemen the Captain has illuminated the seat belt sign, please return to your seats". Yeh, that's easy for you to say, but when a man's gotta go.....!)
I'm a sucker for a window seat. I love watching the world go by at just short of the speed of sound.
One minute you're looking down on snow-capped mountains, the next it's the baron plains of the Western Sahara. And you're in a tin can the weight of a diesel locomotive, with 200 other people about 10 miles off the ground. Amazing!
Slightly deflating then to travel 95% of the journey in sunshine, only to hit grey clouds about 500 miles before landing.
COINING IT IN
Despite the slightly overcast skies, the heat hit us as soon as the doors of the Boeing 757 were opened.
So here's your first tip if you're taking a trip to The Gambia: Make sure you take a pocket full of pound coins with you.
From the minute you get through customs you'll be tipping everyone in sight.
Bell Boys WILL load your bags on to their trolley and escort you to your transfer bus.
Traditional African drummers WILL perform for you just outside the airport.
Another local WILL take your bags off the trolley and yet another WILL load it on to the bus.
If you need the loo, someone WILL be there to point out the urinals before extending their hand towards you and turning their palm skywards.
Each one WILL need to be tipped.
Make sure you keep some coins back too, for: The driver, the guide who escorts you on the bus, the person who takes the bags off the bus, the person who takes them into the hotel and finally - for now - the hotel porter who takes them to your room!
It's all part of The Gambian Experience.
Don't let it put you off. Go with it. It might cost you 20 quid to get from the airport to the hotel but so what? You're on holiday. And it's going to be a fantastic experience!
DRINKS BY THE POOL
By the time we arrived at the hotel (The Corinthia Atlantic - very nice!) and got to our rooms it was about 5.30pm. We'd been travelling for about 13.5 hours and it was time for a beer or two by the pool.
The hotel operates a cash-free environment where everything is signed for at point of sale and paid for at reception at the end of your stay.
We had heard tales that this could mean we'd be fleeced. It didn't. A paper receipt was issued for everything and by the end of the trip we were pleasantly surprised that the amount we budgeted for was about £30 OVER what we'd actually spent.
We'd booked half board but fully expected to have to leave the hotel to get a decent meal. We were wrong. We ended up eating in (or rather out on the patio, yards from the beach) every night. The food, and choice of food, was great.
Now here's tip number two. As soon as you're settled in make friends with the staff and they'll take care of you throughout your stay.
Lamin (the most common name for a Gambian male - meaning 'first born') at the pool bar made sure we never had to wait for a seat or a drink - and had correctly remembered all our names by the second visit.
Sainabu in the restaurant knew exactly which bottle of wine we'd want with our meal.
The Gambians are a very friendly people. And if you tip them £1 you're giving them roughly the equivalent of one day's wages!
And so we'd settled in - and by the end of day one had completely forgotten that it was winter in England and that only that morning we'd driven through temperatures of -4C.
Now we were listening to the waves of the Atlantic crashing on the shore, supping wine and enjoying great food, watching traditional entertainment and becoming very, very mellow.
It was 10.30pm (there's no time difference) and 22C. We'd arrived in West Africa and our Gambian Experience was just about to begin.....
