Day one: 30 April: Titirangi to London, first class

For some reason I am having trouble with my photos. The first one was supposed to be the new New Lynn (no, I don't have a stutter) station. It's not relevant to the blog because I caught a shuttle to the airport, but I have to put it somewhere, so here it isn't. Instead, we have photos of Annie, James, and Falcor. One of them is my daughter, and the others are her closest and most special friends.

I suspect that I have few blog followers, so I am issuing a warning. If you don't read this, then quite simply, I am not going to bother writing it. My mother doesn't use a computer now, having already struggled with the concept of putting a card into a machine rather than communicate with a bank teller when she wants some money. She is very good at the card in the machine trick now but I don't think she's ready to read my blog. So, as I can't rely on her as my blog follower, I am obliged to confront the possibility that I am the only reader. Still, as long as I find it amusing, I suppose it's worth the effort. But I digress.

It took about three hours to get to Sydney, then about an hour to purchase some gin and send a text to Annie to say it was disappointing to be in Sydney and not see her. I did look out the window as we were landing, but the wing was in the way. I carefully chose my seats some weeks ago and chose badly, and have no idea why. Here is a picture of Annie's ferret (see above)

The Sydney - Dubai leg was uneventful, which was a relief, as there were no spare seats, so any event would have been too much. I spent most of the journey wondering why a journey was a leg, but a leg wasn't a journey, even though it was part of it. Air space is often busy when I travel - I suppose other people find out that I am travelling and want to go on my flight. I watched Lovely Bones, which as expected was not as good as the book, but well worth watching. Then I watched It's Complicated because I like Meryl Streep (perhaps if she reads this she will leave an appreciative comment) and made a good start on the Young Victoria before landing in Dubai.

Dubai airport was not as fascinating as the first time I saw it, so I spent most of my time walking up and down, trying to get my pedometer count up to 10,000 steps. After doing this for an hour or so I realised I didn't have it on, so it had been a complete waste of time. After a couple of hours it was time to go to London, so I boarded the A380 that Emirates had kindly arranged for me, not knowing the delights that were ahead.

World Travel is sort of like having an injection of experience. Flying over India to the gentle hum of an A380 while sipping champagne is a little surreal, yet people do it every day. Common as frost in winter. I am particularly lucky though, as my Pisces ascendant kicked in some time during the journey, displacing mercurial thought processes with a spectacular strength, which in fact is how I came by a seat in first class. Until this time, I thought it was sufficiently heavenly to glide through the sky in cattle class, watching endless movies, checking the view outside, and enjoying regular intakes of food and wine. But after 20 hours or so it had begun to wear thin, and I was feeling smelly. I had left Auckland at 6pm Thursday feeling nice and clean, but after 3 hours to Sydney and an hour or so there, and then about 16 (after 7 or 8 hours I lost count) or so getting to Dubai, I was starting to lose the plot. My hair had gone all flat from the ear phones, my feet were sweaty (even though I surreptitiously washed them with my face–cloth before landing), and my nose felt bad, as I had had a nose bleed during one of the breakfasts. So by the time I met Dubai airport I was a little jaded. After an hour or so wandering around there and wishing I had brought a towel so I could have had a free shower (I love anything free – I got it from my mother) I was over the international traveller thing and wanting it to be in London. I clambered into my window seat, turned on the Young Victoria movie and was ten minutes into it when I saw a minor fracas developing in the aisle, so decided to take an interest. It seemed that a couple was being put asunder, with one in business and the other in cattle, and the steward was trying to resolve it with a swap. He asked me if I would move two rows forward, and if the gentleman next to me would go into business, so they could have our seats. I brightly said I didn’t mind going upstairs, and amazingly, the British chap in the next seat turned to me and said I could do that if I wanted. I couldn’t believe it, so I offered to toss a coin but he said no, I should take it. I asked him if he were British, and he said yes, he tried. What a gentleman indeed. If he is reading this, he will know that I am forever in his debt. So I threw down my ear phones, picked up my shoes and socks, grabbed my bag, and rushed upstairs before they changed their minds.

It was wonderful. I was given as much Bolly as I wanted, I had a window seat without a wing in the way, and I was able to stretch my entire 5 foot 4 inches out and still have room to spare. I hooked my phone to a charger, drank everything in the minibar, and ordered another Bolly. And in due course when I had to go to the loo, I found to my delight there was a bar at the back of the ship, so I casually hung out there for a while, ordering Bolly and eating canapes and swapping business cards with other high flyers. Although I felt as if I had a badge on that said 'free upgrade', they were very nice, and no-one seemed to see it or mention it. I love Emirates. They even gave me a little gold card to get me through customs quickly.

Next edition: Finding Poole and waking Amy