Anne Cowan: Snow delay turns Nice break into a great one

BEING stranded by the weather is not all gloom and doom. There are some travellers for whom snow comes down as manna from heaven. We welcome it.

Arriving from Nice at a white Heathrow amid the recent winter chill, I could tell that I was in for a compulsory London citybreak.

Instead of the prospect of going home with the dirty washing, I was studying what's on in the West End theatres. I could hardly believe my luck.

Getting stuck for four hours on the tarmac at the end of a two-hour flight may not sound much fun. But the flight soon developed the camaraderie of the Underground in the blitz.

The captain kept us informed, the stewardesses were great and people started walking up and down the aisle and chatting. It was a bit like a street party; the only difference was that the talk of going on somewhere meant Hong Kong, Chicago or Manchester, not down the local pub.

Instead of eruptions of runway rage there was an outbreak of texting and amazingly cheery and philosophical phoning. When the captain came through to apologise yet again, there were cries of, "You needn't say sorry. It's the weather," and "We've been to Nice. We've nothing to moan about."

And it turned out that the delay had its benefits. That first night, the airline I was travelling with stood dinner, bed and breakfast in a very well-known hotel in central London.

I checked out in the morning to walk through empty, slippery Mayfair to Fortnum & Mason's. Here there was a further benefit: a white, silent London with no crowds, a city where red buses, black taxis and the Household Cavalry passed for traffic.

Getting back to Terminal 5, the queues of passengers were snaking and zigzagging across the concourse and again my flight was cancelled. Demand for hotel rooms was overwhelming. I was handed a form entitling the bearer to own choice of hotel, up to 200 a night, transport to and from the airport , maximum 100, and 25 for food.

I phoned a luxurious hotel in Knightsbridge and tried to haggle. That did not work. However, by paying the excess myself, I had the joy of bed and breakfast at one of the world's top establishments.

Eventually I flew out of Gatwick, not Terminal 5, and arrived in Edinburgh 50 hours late. It was a far from grim experience, and other travellers take note: you too might be entitled to the kind of compensation I was given.