Typical London weather? (London to Malaga)

Terminal Transfer & Security Shenanigans

Heathrow is always an interesting place to transit through. We’ve done that on previous trips and never actually gone into London from the airport. This time was no different—we needed to get from Terminal 3 to Terminal 5, where our next flight would depart.

The usual throng of people descended upon the transfer buses. We were packed in like sardines for the 10-minute trip. The bus ride was interesting with the PDA (public display of affection) couple talking about the sex they wanted to have with each other and loudly sloppy pashing in the aisle of the bus, then towards the end of the ride she said "probably not the place to be talking about this on a crowded bus" you think!!

At Terminal 5, our next challenge was getting through security. There are all the signs about not taking liquids over 100ml. We had a 750ml bottle of champagne... how would we explain that?

The first guy said to keep it out of the bag so they could see it. Rightio, makes sense. The next guy, at the start of the security line, said it needed to be in a ‘duty free’ bag. We explained it was a gift from the flight crew, and he said, “Just put it in your backpack (technically its a bag), but don’t tell them I said so,” and “It may not be an issue since it’s under two litres.” Ok...

So, we did just that—put it in the backpack and hoped for the best. The bags went through without issue. Phew!

Champagne rules & lounge life

By now it was around 7:30am and we were trying to work out which gate our midday flight would leave from. Heathrow doesn’t display gate numbers until closer to departure time, so we had a few hours to kill.

We trundled off to the BA lounge for some rest and (more) food. At the South Galleries Lounge (there’s a North one too), the staff member advised our flight would likely leave from Gate 5—all the way down the other end of the terminal, underneath the North lounge. Oh well. We had time and weren’t in the mood for a long walk just yet.

The lounge was quite busy, but we found a quiet little corner to make our own. While wandering in search of drinks, I stumbled upon the champagne bar. Fully stocked. At 8am. It must be a sign.

I grabbed a coffee for Ros and two champagnes, and we toasted our arrival in Heathrow—one step closer to our first overnight destination: Malaga.

We met a British couple heading to New York. We (okay, Ros) got chatting about travel and our plans. They were on their way to America to join a trip on the Queen Mary 2, travelling back to England by sea. Funnily enough, they were booked on a Scenic Eclipse cruise in 2027 and seasoned boat travellers knew a bit about what to expect.

They also shared stories about Malaga. They mentioned it’s big for golf, and when they checked their bags in, there was a group of about eight guys with golf clubs. Their guess? Definitely heading to Malaga. Later, that would turn out to be spot on.

The weather outside was wet—very wet—and the couple said it was classic London. But Malaga, they assured us, would be much nicer and much drier.

Boarding mayhem & golfers on tour

After about three hours, we made the journey toward the other end of the terminal to check on Gate 5. It wasn’t listed yet, so we popped upstairs to the lounge above it. The staff there confirmed: yes, it would be Gate 5. We waited a little longer, then headed down once the gate was posted.

Boarding was absolute chaos. The ‘boarding group’ system was in place, but there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to how it actually worked. We managed to snake our way through and got settled into seats 2A and 2C (basically economy seats with the middle seat kept empty with a tray table in it, not much leg room).

I checked and all of our bags were still with us (or at least at Heathrow and nearby!).

After what felt like forever, we were ready for pushback. That’s when we realised the couple had been right—this flight to Malaga was going to be interesting.

A group of guys who had clearly been drinking boarded with us. Not long after takeoff, they were all up front needing the bathroom, stuck waiting for the drinks trolley to clear. But they made the most of it—grabbed another beer each and waited, pretty sure the whole plane was related to each other.

In-flight & on arrival

Lunch on the flight was cottage pie and dessert. A decent meal—enough to keep us going.

Getting off the plane and reaching passport control was a long walk. The walkway had signs splitting EU and non-EU passports, but it didn’t really matter—everyone merged again on a lower level before the actual split.

Thankfully, we’d been near the front of the plane, so we got in the queue early. A few minutes later, the line was enormous. Ros picked the perfect lane—her passport guy was fast and efficient, and we were through in no time.

Baggage confusion & airport smoke

Then we hit the next snag—don’t trust the signs. Ours said baggage from non-EU countries would arrive at carousels 31–34. So off we went, even though the British passengers were heading to carousel 23.

Sure enough, there were no bags where we went. Ros asked a group of five customs officers nearby—who didn’t even look up. They just pointed vaguely behind us to carousel 23 and kept chatting.

We doubled back, found our bags on the carousel at 23, and grabbed them. Along the way we did spot a few bucks and hens groups that had been on our flight – they were ready for a good time in Malaga.

Out the front, we met our driver and loaded up the car. As we were putting the bags in, he pointed out smoke coming from part of the airport. He wanted to get going quickly, just in case something was up. But by the time we left, the smoke had disappeared. Crisis averted.

Arrival in Malaga & first impressions

The drive to the hotel was about 20 minutes. The driver pointed out landmarks and things we should see. Our hotel—Only YOU Hotel Malaga—is right near the port.

There was no parking at the front, so he parked around the corner (illegally), grabbed our bags, and escorted us to the entrance.

The hotel is lovely. Ros had picked a room with a view of the port with a balcony, it was on the 5th floor with a great view that overlooks the port and the docked cruise ships. We spotted a few private yachts across the marina. After a bit of research, we discovered one of them—the Lady Moura—is the 48th biggest private yacht in the world.

By this stage, it was around 5:30pm and we were running on fumes, Ros had trouble speaking coherently haha. The hotel had provided a charcuterie board, so we nibbled on that while watching the city go by.

I had planned to stay up and try to reset my body clock—but that didn’t happen…