The Flight
My first real long haul flight – 13 ½ hours to Hong Kong, followed by 9 ½ more hours to Melbourne.
Having dropped off our luggage at the Cathay Pacific check in desk at Heathrow, Chas was keen to go through security as soon as possible. This was nothing to do with any concerns about queuing and delays – it was because the best shops are on the far side of the security area. So we duly presented our flight boarding passes to the Very Nice Man at the security desk. We were proud of these – we had successfully checked in on line, reserving our seats and printing off the passes before we left home, thus theoretically saving time at the airport. However, it seems that I need a new printer. The Very Nice Man’s bar code reader couldn’t scan our passes and so we couldn’t go through to the security area. We had to go back downstairs to the Cathay Pacific desk to have a “proper” boarding pass printed. Clearly we won’t bother with on-line checking in again. The Very Nice Man’s bar code reader was much happier with the proper boarding passes. The Very Nice Man had a Very Nice Supervisor, who has seen the earlier problem, and very kindly escorted us through to the security area, to the front of a very long queue, where a Very Nice Security Officer stopped dealing with another passenger to give us priority at the x-ray machine. Clearly we will be using on-line checking in again, and I won’t be buying a new printer.
One bonus of our return visit to the Cathay Pacific desk – the Very Nice Lady at the desk commented that we would need to go through security again in Hong Kong. Any liquids of more than 100 ml would be confiscated, including any duty free spirits purchased in the UK. What a waste of gin that would have been. I would have had to buy four litres of tonic, find a large glass, some ice, and a lemon, drink several extremely large gin and tonics, and subsequently get carried through security.
The journey itself wasn’t as tedious as I expected. Dinner was served soon after take off. I watched a film, some documentaries, read a book, and listened to an audio book. Disconcertingly I discovered that I now need to wear reading glasses to see the seat-back screen in front of me, unless it is a romance, in which case the soft focus is perfectly acceptable. I had decided that I would sleep as soon as it got dark, at 3,30pm UK time. I managed to doze for 6 hours, waking up for breakfast before our arrival in Hong Kong at 7.00am local time. I never miss an opportunity for food, even at 40,000 feet. Chas did not sleep well. The seat was uncomfortable, she had a heavy cold, and I snored. Instead Chas spent the entire trip wide awake, watching seven full length films, several TV documentaries, and reading a significant part of a large novel.
We transferred flights at Hong Kong airport. I am convinced that this is the only airport where the various connecting corridors are longer than the runways. Passengers walking from arrivals to departures for a transfer are given a sleeping bag in case they haven’t arrived at the departure gate by nightfall. Nevertheless we found the right departure gate, and two hours after landing we took off again, just in time for the second breakfast of the day. The second leg passed much as the first, but without the sleep. I wanted to be sleepy at Oz bed-time. The only problem during the flight was the turbulence, which caused the plane to bounce around a bit. The bouncing didn’t bother me – the problem was that dinner was delayed.
Arriving
We landed at 9.30pm Melbourne time, collected our bags after going through passport control and customs, and then went to Immigration. We had completed and signed a form on the plane promising that we wouldn’t be stopping for long. This seemed like welcoming guests into your home by asking when they are planning to leave.
Australian Officialdom is very fussy about foodstuffs being brought into the country. Apparently they seem to think that Australia is sterile, whereas the rest of the world is full of diseases just waiting for an opportunity to ravage the local flora and fauna. We never visit Lucy without bearing a gift of chocolate. Lucy had assured us that this was fine (well, she would wouldn’t she? Thornton’s doesn’t exist in Oz), but we must declare it, because the airport is fully equipped with chocolate loving sniffer dogs. Chas was very keen to declare the chocolates, rather than have them confiscated. She declared it to the passport control man, she declared it to the customs man, and finally she declared it to the Immigration man, the only man remotely interested. He directed us to a long queue of people waiting to tell officials all about the Marmite, or Weetabix, or whatever treats that they had brought for their beloved ex-pats. I didn’t really want to join this queue, because I wanted to go and say hello to the chocolate loving sniffer dog that I could see sticking his nose into other passengers’ baggage in another queue.
An official looking lady stopped us as we arrived at “our” queue. She looked at Chas’s immigration form, and confirmed that we were importing British chocolate. This could clearly be taken as a slur on the Australian chocolate industry. We were directed away from the queue, and through a door, where I was expecting to meet a man wearing latex gloves, and braced myself for a thorough and very personal search. I was exceedingly relieved when we passed through the door into the arrivals area – once again officials had allowed us to queue jump.
Chris and Bridget were waiting for us outside the airport. Having left England in heavy snow, here we were arriving in Australia on a warm Melbourne evening, with a personally drawn welcome card for each of us from Bridget, who had insisted on being woken to come with Daddy to meet Grannie Chas and Grandpa Coops. It was going to be a good holiday.
Chris and Lucy’s house is about half an hour from the airport, and so we were soon being warmly welcomed by Lucy. We were shown around the house. Anyone who has seen “Gone with the Wind” will have seen the Southern States houses with the sweeping central staircase separating two wings of a large homestead. Chris and Lucy’s rented home is a modern air-conditioned version of this. Land is plentiful Down Under, and Australians fill their building plots with acres of domestic floor space, rather than a garden as the Brits do. This may be due to Sun Avoidance, a policy commonly practiced throughout Oz. In Chris and Lucy’s home, the stairs sweep up from an open plan hallway, with living room to one side, and play area to the other. Doors at the back of the hallway lead to a larger living room with kitchen off. Upstairs four large bedrooms and a bathroom lead off a massive landing, used as a play area. A big proportion of the floor space in the house is allocated to Bridget and Megan as play areas, which is exactly as it should be.
Australia is full of wildlife out to get the unsuspecting visitor. Chris and Lucy lectured us on the potential dangers of the White Tailed Spider, whose role in life is to encourage a neat and tidy life style. It lurks under clothes, towels or shoes left on the floor, leaping out at anyone who picks up the carelessly abandoned items, injecting the offender with necrosis inducing bacteria. How nice. I became remarkably tidy while in Oz. Nevertheless I did not trust the beastie to stay on the floor – all clothing was vigorously shaken before being worn. On the following day a fine example of the beastie was seen strolling across the living room floor. It paused briefly to pose for a photograph, before being taken by surprise by an electric insect zapper.
We had a very relaxed evening having a chat and drink with Chris and Lucy. Eventually we realised that whereas our body clocks were all set for another after-lunch gin and tonic, Chris and Lucy were ready for sleep. And so we gave in to Australia Time and went to bed.
Technically we live in Oaktree House, but sadly the tree had to go.
We now have a thriving Oakstump at the front of the house.
