Our first day in Australia does not start well. All my own fault, of course – I just can’t sleep on planes. 3am finds us in Darwin – the right country at least – waiting to board new passengers before continuing to our final destination, and starting point: Cairns. In order to do this, everyone is required to leave the plane. This seems faintly ridiculous, but I’m far beyond any ability to complain, and so obligingly trudge off the plane, only to trudge back on again 30 minutes later. I suddenly realise that this is day 3, and we’re not actually there yet.

Once again I’d told where the door is – entirely unnecessary as I’ve now walked through it three times, and we take off once again for Cairns. Finally at 8am we arrive unceremoniously, and once again disembark, this time with the enthusiasm that accompanies the knowledge that we will not have to re-board again. It was shortly after this that I discovered that my baggage, which had accompanied me for most of my journey, had decided to pip me at the post and go to Brisbane. In Australian terms, that’s probably described as ‘close’. I received an apology and was told that it would arrive by 11am, and would thereafter be delivered to my accommodation. Which was great, except that the accommodation we had booked in the UK had not received our booking and was now full. We were taken to an alternative place, which was nice enough, and phoned the airline to let them know where to send my bag.

Finally, we managed to get into town, and wandered down the Esplanade. I was surprised to find that Cairns had no beach – only mud flats. I’m told this is down to the Great Barrier Reef catching all the fine silt and sand. By 6pm I’d been awake and in the same clothes for 37 hours, so when we got back to the hostel it was quite a relief to discover that my bag had arrived. For the first time, I felt, so had I.