3am – Rudely awoken by the nasty but rather helpful alarm clock, and dragged out to the car. My trousers are trembling with excitement. As indeed am I.
7am – After managing to create a traffic jam on the runway, and the pilot helpfully warning of bad weather conditions, we start our assent into a mild storm.
8am – As we shoot through the air in a metal tube, I cunningly make jokes about the recent terrorist troubles. I get overly excited at the prospect of individual movie screens in our seat, and manage to select a broken one. Well done me.
11am – I sleep.
12pm – I wake up, wondering where the hell I am…
9pm – After a 14 hour flight, we manage to find our bags, despite my amusing jokes about their probable appearance in Zimbabwe, we find our hotel, and pass out.