and...24 hours later

Yes. Here I am, in one piece, brain intact and feeling awake, in Sydney.

I must report, first off, that I secured an exit row seat on BA009 from London, Heathrow to Sydney. It wasn't just an emergency exit by which I sat, it was a full-blown exit giving me more room to stretch my legs then I could use. See, it pays to arrive at the airport 10 hours before your flight.

I won't say much about the flight. It was long, broken by a stop in Bangkok where we got out for a 2 km walk to a security screening area and back to the point where we started, to re-board the aircraft. The new airport, on the outside, is quite striking. On the inside it is steel gray - everything- and has the air of a medical research centre, or maybe a high-tech, ultra-modern prison block.

In Sydney, I was whisked through the efficient passport control area. My bag was waiting for me And then I got to customs. There too, queue control was well engineered, but then I got to the customs agent, a stout Fijian woman who made mild small talk about driver's license while laying all of my earthly possessions out on her stainless steel counter top and picking through them, asking me this and that - trying to figure out if my excursions to Afghanistan and Pakistan (well known for all kinds of things you should never mention in an airport or to a customs agent) were legitimate. In the end (sans strip-search, I was relieved to find) I was declared clean and quited the area.

So that's that. I'm at my host's house, I've had another cup of coffee and will sit down and watch a bit of cricket, perhaps.