Arrival

14 hours, Singapore to Frankfurt to Heathrow, and they can be summarised in just one word.

Lufthansa.

Anyone who has flown with them knows what I'm talking about. It's like a trip down aviation's memory lane:

• Hop on board 747 number 00001, unrefurbished since 1969!
  
• Watch old, bad, censored-for-everything films on a fuzzy projector!
  
• Land at Frankfurt's "smoke free" Airport and marvel at the open-plan "smoking areas" that don't even have a hole in the ceiling above them!

But anyway, we made it in alive. Next stop was the immigration counter where Bec was told she was required to have a health check-up - immediately. She was actually quite sick with the 'flu and we were somewhat concerned that there could be some time-wasting, rubber-gloved unpleasantness. Luckily for us, the health inspector took one glance at Bec as she walked into the clinic, asked her where she was from, and stamped her papers. A gruelling examination...

One last heave of the luggage to the Hertz car park and into the back of a Ford Fiesta (just!) and we were belting our way around the M25 to Johnny's Granny in Kent. We got there in time for elevensies, and began loading up on caffeinated goodness to try and get us through the jet-lag to a reasonable bedtime. Unfortunately Granny's place, being warm, quiet and generally very relaxing, is not the ideal place to try and stay wide awake - a fabulous roast for lunch also brought us dangerously close to nanna-nap territory.

We made it to dinner at 7pm before having to excuse ourselves at 7.30. Falling asleep into your plate is not a good look.