I've arrived. It seems like a lifetime since I hugged Mum & Dad goodbye and took off in Manchester, waving down at Christiano Ronaldo et al as my ears popped.
From there, I boarded the Qantas flight from London to Singapore, and it was easily the best flight I've ever been on. Maybe it's because I'm used to the likes of Ryan Air, where the amount of room provided forces you to adopt the brace position, I don't know. But it was great. The food was nice (I had a chicken roast dinner and a cooked breakfast if you're asking), and I watched Argo (which was bum clenchingly tense). I even opted to listen to an Enrique Iglesias album in my slightly dozy state (see in photos). Was one of his early ones, pre-mole removal. I don't recommend it.
Right now I'm in the hotel room in Singapore. Feeling a little lonely, and a teeny weeny bit nervous, but above all excited for what awaits. It's 30 degrees and it's nearly 10pm. I'm definitely going to sweat the bed. Wish me luck.