05-06/11/25 Hello Western Australia.

The Steve effect fast tracked us through security and check in and we parted ways at the aircraft door: Roger to the fairytale lands of Business class and me to the trenches of Economy. Being the kind person that he is, my beloved made sure to send me photos of lie-flat bed, lavish menus, and all the things that Economy could only dream about.

Waiting for a plane.

On my left an English chappie confessed that he lived in Kalgoorlie and commuted every 5 weeks to visit his family in London.  "I'm from Kalgoorlie too!" chimed Mr OnMyRight, and they conducted a little who-do-you know conversation until Mr OMR confessed that he was a cop.  Mr On The left promptly withdrew to the comfort of multiple small wine bottles gladly provided by the Qantas staff and that was the last anyone heard from him for the next 14 hours or so.

Last view of London.

The babies on Qantas QF10 were the quietest things on board as we flew into tomorrow.  On QF10 nobody settled in to sleep: there was more movement than maggots in an outhouse, more talk than a CWA national convention.  Queues formed outside the toilets and devolved into spontaneous exercise groups driven by jolly mature-aged Englishwomen.  Everyone was going to or returning from a holiday and happy to tell everyone else all about it. Across the aisle a pair of travellers spent the entire flight shuffling their bags around in the overhead bins, opening baggage and repacking it item by item as underwear fell under their seat and fellow passengers tripped on shampoo bottles on the way to the galley.  In the row in front of me Madame Hot Beverages asked her husband every two hours if he wanted tea or coffee, a conversation that took place with multiple repititions at increasing volume depending on whether Mr Hot Beverage was awake or asleep at the time, and if he had his ears turned on.  Mrs Hot Beverage was multi-skilled and when not taking tea/coffee orders thoroughly enjoyed herself watching funny movies and laughing heartily at jokes which, thanks to her headphones, only she could hear.

I discovered the snack cupboard down in the galley, and maintained my sanity with cheese, crackers, chocolate, and conversation with the other sleep refugees who drifted down to amuse ourselves by watching air staff put tin foil meals in minature ovens.

Night zipped past and the flight crew cheated by keeping the windows blacked out, a ruse that didn't work because no-one was sleeping anyway.  By the time the windows cleared the coast of Western Australia was visible outside, the blue sea jewelled with beaches and dotted with pleasure craft.

Hello Western Australia.

Mr OTL woke up in time to exchange pleasantries with Mr OMR, both of them making insincere noises about getting in touch in Kalgoorlie.

Roger bounced out of Business to be reunited with Steve, who had travelled ignomoniously in the hold and was still a little chilly about the snub. Roger sang songs about so much food, too many G&Ts, and the lamentable thinness of the lie-flat mattress. Steve and I were not sympathetic. 

Sunshine! And warmth!

We caught the Metro to Fremantle and dedicated ourselves to staying awake until a sensible bedtime.  Outside the windows of our little flat the sun shone, the air sparkled, and a stiff breeze blew from the ocean.

It's good to be (almost) home.