Day 31 - All Good Things...

And so to home. Bags packed, room checked out of, airport shuttle arranged. Time to fly back to the real world, beginning with a 4.30am start.

I was genuinely sad to leave Hong Kong, a place that I initially was apprehensive about yet had fallen completely for. Even to the last, when something went wrong, it was efficient beyond the call of duty.

Our flight was Air NZ to Heathrow. The flight itself is Auckland - Hong Kong - London, which must be a swine if you are going all 23 hours of the journey. The plane had been delayed in Auckland for a wheel change (while the passengers were on it) which meant that our onward connection to Manchester was in jeopardy.

We weren't to know this when we got to the Air NZ desk, yet when we did, the bloke behind the counter knew all about it. He had already reserved seats on the next available flight, checked our bags through and presented us with a voucher to give to BA to get our seats.

I was amazed - normally you are greeted at the other end and left to figure out how to get home. The rebooking had been arranged happened before we even got to the airport. Just amazing customer service.

The flight was uneventful for its 12 and a bit hours. We flew over the site of the recent earthquake in China and then Russia - if you ever want to understand just how big Russia is... it takes a 747 six hours to fly over it.

We landed at Heathrow. Instead of heading for Terminal 1 and BMI, it was time to face BA and Terminal 5. Onto the coach, no baggage claim and not a small amount of confusion as we made it across to the new terminal without having to clear UK immigration. We even changed some spare HK dollars into sterling at a Bureau de Change and he seemed mystified that we hadn't passed Customs.

Eventually we did find the Immigration desk, with no queues at all. I wandered up, passport in hand.

"Hello"

Silence. My passport was taken off me by a woman who seemed to take my very existence as a personal affront, scanned, then handed back.

"Thankyou"

Still silence. Same for Caroline.

Welcome home. Bloody welcome home. For Gods sake.

When we started out on our trip, T5 was in chaos, with baggage disappearing into the ether and cancelled flights aplenty. To be honest, it is easy to understand why - there just isn't any helpful signage. We eventually found our way to the BA checkin desk, explained the rearranged flight and despite noone being around, we were still asked to check in using the machine. Okayyy... over we go.

Booking number? Not got one of those.
Voucher code? Nope.
I find the option for surname. I type my surname. I scan my passport.
"No record found".

Oh for crying out loud. Back to the desk we were at five minutes ago. The woman sitting there was quite cheery but why she couldn't have checked us in in the first place, I'll never know.

A short meal then a wait for the plane. Eventually our gate appeared and we wandered over. Flight was due to take off at 7.40pm. At 7.30pm, the flight crew are still waiting to board. 7.40pm comes and goes. 7.45pm - "We regret to announce that your flight has been delayed". No shit, Sherlock.

We board sometime approaching 8pm and find ourselves right at the back on a packed plane. Beggars can't be choosers, but my tired mood wasn't helped by the constant wittering of the cabin staff behind us. An uneventful flight and we touch down at Manchester.

Bags made it through OK, although everyone crowded the carousel, to the extent that I was almost taking people out at the knees with our heavy luggage. I was tired and angry, angry at the reception from Immigration, angry at the lack of information at the delays, angry at stupid selfish people not considering others. Hong Kong, New Zealand really did seem half a world away.

It couldn't spoil our trip. Nothing could. We've seen things that we had wanted to see, experienced things that money can't buy. Every place that we have been, we have not wanted to leave. We could do it all again tomorrow.

We can't do it all again tomorrow though. But give us six months...