I boarded the plane but the two Brits in my row were noisy and so planned to nab my own row of seats (the flight had quite a few empty seats in economy). The moment the plane was in the air and the seatbelt sign winked out, it was chaos! Passengers fought for, won and lost potential beds. I had my fair share of frustration.
The nearest three-seater was reserved by a woman in the row behind it when she threw a pink cushion on it before take off. The next three-seater was stolen by a rude man - but this turned out to be a good thing because those arm rests didn’t fold up (they were exit rows, tables and entertainment folded away into arm rests).
Eventually, I found a brilliant four-seater two rows from the back of the plane. Two of the armrests kept falling down but I managed to fold myself around the problem. Four pillows, four blankets, four headsets...heaven! And right near toilets too.
My time was spent watching programmes, reading books, snacking after walks around the plane - and glorious napping which managed to mostly put me on Sydney time.
Breakfast was blah, but it didn’t matter because suddenly at 5:10am we touched down in my home city. I ignored the e-Passport lines (glasses always bamboozle the machines), waited for and got my suitcase (to my relief there was no vodka smell or staining) which was freezing and breezed through customs.
My parents greeted me - Mum took a photo. Ugh! 24+ hours in the same Dalek T-shirt. I must have looked terrifying.
I was driven home and arrived just before 7am. Souvenirs took a while to sort out but luckily most of my clothes were clean!
I was finally, truly, home.