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Arrive at Birmingham airport at 1630, hot chocolate with Mum and Dad. Check in through customs - now two and a half hours to boarding. Grab a tasteless burger at Yates, then to Wetherspoons for a glass of Spanish Rioja and some books from their library. It turns out that Aix-en-Provence is the worlds greatest source of almond production, and that the mistral once, allegedly, propelled an engineless train from Arles to Port St.Louis - a distance of well over 10 miles. So far, so normal. I feel like I'm about to fly to France.
Even though this kind of travel is now standard, I do have a rose-tinted view of travels past, when any cross country visit was an event, let alone a cross continent one. I can't help but think of Phileas Fogg and his travels around the world, and subsequent copies by both an animated animal and by Michael Palin! In the time it'll take me to reach the other side of the world, Fogg would probably just about have managed to reach Barcelona after a trip through France on train and horse! I can't deny it - I am squirming with nervous excitement.
Boarding time! 15 minutes later than advertised - Gate 44. One thing to note: hearing a lot of Welsh accents!
Aboard! Pick up a complimentary Short List (mostly for the Danny Wallace article) and, by habit, a Telegraph. Slightly daft, since I read most of it this morning. Children (young) in the vicinity - potential danger. The TV has a remote and a supplied set of headphones are joined by a large blanket and an orangey-pink pillow. Leg room is relatively decent, although since I struggle to sit still during a film in normal circumstances it'll be interesting to see how I last the long haul. For no apparent reason, everyone is offered a hot towel. Still, why not?
As the plane moves into position on the runway, we get to watch on the screen what the pilot can see - terminals, car parks - and then a straight line of green lights can only signify one thing - exit strategy! A slow turn to the right and there are additional blue lights, then a flashing orange. Now it's multi coloured - and we are told to prepare for take off! The burnt orange lights shrink and vanish as we briefly see the Birmingham skyline at various angles before the sky itself takes hold.
A very light snack (a couple of little squares of some kind of fish). Some Beatles, some Jackson 5, a waitress whose earrings seem to be half a centimetre too high. Movies all mid showing now so sticking to music. Then...the seat in front of me tips back. Hoorah! Even less leg room, not to mention a jaunty angle at which to watch the screen. The main frustration is not being able to get to sleep. It's the end of the day, I'm tired, yet it just isn't looking likely.
Managed to sleep around two and a half hours, I'd say. Splitting headache about half an hour from Dubai as the plane starts its slow move downwards. This, thankfully, eventually passes. There is some confusion as we all enter Terminal 3. We are sent one way then shouted back to go through security. Terminal 3 is huge, how big must Terminal 1 be?! Wander round, not much excitement to be had, so I find a seat to rest a while.
Check in again. Fall asleep immediately for an about an hour - as much as I ever get in one go it feels. Time drifts, jumps, drifts, jumps again. Three episodes of The Big Bang Theory. Frost/Nixon (excellent) passes by. Frasier, Outnumbered, State of Play (excellent too) and, to finish the flight from Dubai to Sydney, The Jungle Book. Magical!
Another, much worse, knife through head headache as the plane begine to lower - at least 20 minutes of torture this time, which at least staved off briefly the chronic nervousness that was setting in. By now, I have no idea what time of day it is. Or even what day it is.
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