So what idiot agreed to an 8am flight? That would be me, without of course, any regard for the fact that meant being on the way to the airport at 3.45am. Despite my concern, the shuttle bus turned up (early in fact) and the driver spoke enough English to get me to terminal 4. This was the first time I had caught a plane since arriving in Stockholm without spare undies so this time I was prepared – enough clothes to last a couple of days were piled into my onboard luggage. [‘Full Moon, Empty Heart’ – Belly – this is probably my favourite Belly song and perfect for a Sunday afternoon as the sun goes down over Limerick Junction, Ireland]

I had tried to check in online about three times without success ad when I arrived at the airport I realised why – I was flying into Ireland with a one-way ticket on a budget airline and there was no evidence I was leaving (despite the fact I was booked on a plane back to Australia in less than two weeks). As it turned out, the Irish border was the hardest one I have crossed so far. And despite being able to stay for up to 60 days, they want a date for when you are leaving as soon as you arrive. And they check your passport about six times before you actually make it across the border. Anyway, despite my concern, the airline check-in girl booked my bags through to Cork. At least this time I had undies.

Madrid’s Barajas Airport was the first major international Airport I had entered. It’s easy when you go through Hong Kong as a transit passenger and Helsinki airport was a lot smaller than SKSA. It was a convoluted process to get to the gate through security screening, downstairs, on a train to the terminal 4 annex, upstairs, more security screening and a passport check – I got my second passport stamp for leaving Spain. Now seeing as Ireland is part of the EU (they even use the Euro), I was surprised by the strict level of border control – EU citizens can live and work in Ireland. Finally, we boarded the plane and I settled in for the two and a half hour flight. Greater Madrid looked quite spectacular as we flew out before dawn. It dawns quite late in Madrid and the sun sets rather late as well, which probably explains the structure of the Spanish day.

Once I arrived at Heathrow, it was clear I had a pretty serious head cold – temperature, hacking cough and blocked sinuses – the whole deal. Between my Spanish flu and my lack of sleep, it was going to be a long six hour wait for the train. Most of the first hour was just taken up with getting through the security checks and to the correct terminal. First you walk for about 15 minutes, get on a bus and walk for another 10 minutes then you get your passport checked twice and have a biometric photo taken. Then you walk for another 10 minutes to get to the correct waiting area where you get the boarding pass for the connecting flight. First I sorted the cash situation and then I decided to have breakfast. I was in England (well kind of) so I decided it was time for my first fry up since leaving home. It was great and it was nice to be able to order without pointing and using hand gestures.

After wasting the day, suffering with the flu in transit, I had to pass through another passport check and a biometrics check before finally boarding the plane for Cork. Interestingly English isn’t the first language for the announcements to Ireland either. They are in Gaelic. But everybody speaks English. I arrived in Cork airport where it had been raining to yet another passport check (and another stamp) allowing me only to stay until March 6 – I couldn’t remember the exact date I had planned to leave Ireland. And the first thing I noticed was how green it was. Everybody tells you but you’re really not prepared. [‘Gepetto’ – Belly – kind of appropriate considering the Celtic sounding Clanaard was the genesis for this band.]