The bliss of sinking into your own bed after the 24 hours on a plane is tricky to describe. Words like comfy, delightful, excellent do not even come close to capturing the feeling. 
I made it back from Melbourne yesterday morning. Having flown Melbourne-Singapore-Dubai-London. Emirates sometimes like to through in an extra stop, two breakfasts in a row, plus a couple of plane changes just to keep you on your toes. In Dubai we were all herded onto the big, monsterous A380. It is a double decker plane, with a cosy 580 seats on it. I understand why they keep building them bigger, it makes commercial sense. -But it would be oh so lovely if they could build them faster! Isn’t this what the public actually want? Imagine how lovely it would be to get between Melbourne, or other far flung places, in 10 hours rather than 23?
The other thing that would revolutionise long haul travel would be speedy baggage reclaim. Isn’t that just the grimiest thing? You have survived the neck ache of sleeping upright, through customs at lightening speed, you are wearing the same clothes that you slept and ate in, all you want to do is make a quick escape…….to the shower. But you are kept in this shabby state – watching and waiting for your luggage to appear. Yesterday not only was my cheerful red bag one of the last to appear but at some point it had got run over, or jammed in the conveyor belt – as the corner was completely smashed in, with a hole in. I guess I should be thankful that my undies weren’t strewn all over the belt as it hurtled its way into London or that it was left behind in Singapore. None the less I am a little bit peeved about its destruction!
Anyway, I made it back to London in one piece after a too short trip home.
