Missing breakfast was a bad way to start my two-month time-out in Australia. I had so been looking forward to it too. After spending 9 hours cramped into a window seat which necessitated literally climbing over fellow passengers to use the toilet and largely unable to sleep I had finally managed to drift off to not-as-mind-numbingly-boring-as-a-splitting-headache-land and awoke to find Sydney was but an hour away and the cabin smelling of reheated airline food.

Just as I was starting to get really excited about the fact that finally my airsickness/hungry cycle was about to coincide with the British Airways "Feed the Rabble" schedule, Oh, Now She's Awake When I Don't Need To Wee next to me turned and said breezily, "They just finished serving breakfast, but you were asleep."

My heart sank. My stomach rumbled. My neighbour began to tell me everything she could think of about her holiday and her hopes and dreams for the future. There was also a bizarre interlude with a muffin, which I won't go into here (but be sure to come back for the special All-Muffin-Edition of this blog when... haha... nearly had you going there. I am, of course, lying).

So I filled out my Customs and Penetration form, remembering to tick "No" next to "Do you want to explode yourself in a public place with a nuclear warhead you smuggled here in your nailclippers?", and joined the shifting, shapeless masses of the yet-to-be-allowed-in. And masses there surely were. Good thing the kind souls in the Uniforms Intended To Frighten had set up a few electric fans to spread the air-travel colds around, otherwise I might have got a migraine.

"I'm about to get a migraine," I said after my father and aunt had greeted me in the arrival hall. So that was most of my one day in Sydney gone, but at least I got a solid 8 hours kip, woke up feeling like a zombie in the late afternoon, finally showered in a stand-up shower for the first time since Sweden and even squeezed in a few hours talking mostly shite with some friends (I can't help but think that coming back from half a year in Europe and talking mainly about how shockingly racist most people in Attendorn seem to be is not exactly a good explanation of why overseas travel is popular both generally and with me, but oh well, it was on my mind).

And then that was it, "Welcome to Sydney, no you can't have any, but make sure you stick your head down the dunny, now sod off," my day in Sydney was over. Can't say it was the homecoming I'd expected.