March 14

I slept little and spent most of the night feeling unwell. Too much rich food and too little sleep I suspect. By the time my alarm call arrived at 6 am, I was washed, shaved and dressed - but wishing I could have stayed in my bed for a couple of days.

I joined the small party downstairs, checked out - an invoice had been stuffed under my room door at some stage overnight - and we piled into the shuttle which drove us through the empty streets to Southern Cross Station and the main Airport bus. Still feeling distinctly delicate, I shut my eyes and thought of England as we hurtled along the main road towards the airport.

The formalities there were relatively pain free and I arrived at the Koru lounge and wasted one of my free tickets on a comfy chair but not consuming anything more than a glass of water.

When boarding time arrived, we wandered a considerable distance through the airport, found the right plane and took our seats. The same road works that delayed us on the way in then took over and we sat on the runway for ages, finally taking off about half an hour late.

By mid way, I was feeling human again, managed an airline snack, washed down with a couple of glasses of cheap Chardonnay, and read my book until we finally landed, about 15 minutes late.

I had declared the spices I was given at the Festival dinner on my form, which was just as well as the security doggy found them immediately - mind you, the doggy appeared to be greeting everyone as if they were criminals. I think it just liked talking to people. This meant a lengthy discussion with the biosecurity people. What's the point of declaring things if you get hung out to dry anyway! What a waste of time.

After that, I was allowed into the country, Wayne had already collected the car from the car park and we sped home.