AVIATION.....SLEEP DEPRIVATION ....... ISOLATION!

AVIATION - SLEEP DEPRIVATION - ISOLATION!

OK! I know the title sounds a bit like a song by the Moody Blues. (Remember them? https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Moody_Blues#Founding_and_early_history) but you have to start somewhere when posting a title for a blog; and after 30 odd hours of international travel, my creative resources are probably a little jaded. 

Over the last few weeks I have been asked by several folk, who seemed to enjoy the Glyndwr Blog, whether I intended blogging the fourteen days I am spending in a New Zealand isolation facility. So, once more unable to resist a challenge, here goes! I am not sure exactly what I will find to write about, but if I am reduced to "Got up; stared at the ceiling for a while; then stared out of the window; then went to bed" type posts, I promise to stop!

Background: 

Most of you will be aware by now that New Zealand has adopted a rather different approach to Covid than most other countries, "going hard-going early" the lady called it, a bit like Richie McCaw I guess?  I do not intend to analyse whether this approach is better than that of the UK or any other country, it is too early to accurately complete that analysis anyway. But a total of 28 Covid deaths compared to around 150,000 and rising, will provide for a fascinating study one day.(New Zealand has about five million inhabitants so multiply 28 x about 12 to get a rough comparison. = about 340.) But the country still remains closed to the general traveller, indeed it remains almost closed to many kiwis wishing to return home. There are limited places available each week and they are massively over subscribed with some 30,000 impatiently waiting for an isolation facility spot. 

Last July, I managed to secure a voucher for an isolation place, to arrive on 18th October, in Christchurch. You only get 48 hours to match a flight to that entry voucher and Singapore Airlines were able to oblige. It was a difficult decision: Fran is not travelling with me at this time and so I am leaving lovely friends and family, to join lovely friends and family. And I did need to get back to a house that has been empty for fifteen months and I am more than a little concerned as to what happens next in the UK Covid crisis, with vaccination protection fading and winter on the horizon. Life is not simple these days is it?

So on Saturday 16th October Fran dropped me off at Terminal 2, Heathrow airport, the entrance to which is now cunningly hidden behind a maze of traffic lights and orange cones. The UK fuel crisis appears to be confined mainly to SE England and a strategic diesel fill at Cardiff ensured my wife had enough fuel on board to return to Wales. I did suggest carrying 50 litres of diesel with us in a leaking can, or arranging fuel dumps en route as if on a polar expedition, but she told me I was being stupid.

The Journey begins: 

Heathrow was a little busier than when I arrived fifteen months ago. Even so, all the flights leaving Terminal 2 that evening fitted onto one departure screen with no requirement for neck craning or a frustrating wait, for my flight details to appear. I had read the instructions and arranged a pre-departure PCR test (£90) and had the certificate on my phone, so as a result check in was ultimately simple and security even simpler, although I was impressed by the fact that the security guy carefully checked that the contents of my hand sanitiser bottle wasn't nitro-glycerine. Of course face masks were obligatory which made for an interesting contrast with the world outside the airport. While mask wearing remains compulsory in shops and similar areas in Wales and Scotland, the English have chosen otherwise and masks were much less obvious there. It seems strange to my thinking that mask wearing should have become a politicised act of rebellion, when it is surely just good manners in an epidemic? 

Thus wearing my mask, with which I was to become intimately familiar over the next fourteen or so hours and resisting the temptation to give it a name, (Masky McMasky?) I boarded a very empty looking plane. Only family groups were seated together, so I was allocated three seats to spread my newspapers, magazines, books and other requisites and more were readily available nearby if required. The complete absence of any drinks service, other than bottled water, was less impressive but on the premise that contact with hostesses should be limited, wine was served only with the meal and water sufficed for the rest of the flight. No snacks or other goodies were proffered.Over the years, even I have learned of the perils of alcohol on long haul travel and it is hard to argue too vehemently against this decision. Singapore Airlines must have lost a fortune on this flight and anyway the food was really quite good. 

I had six hours to kill at Changi Airport and was able to walk around quite a lot although passengers were confined to certain areas and the butterfly garden, which I always try to visit, was closed. The airport, usually one of the busiest hubs in Asia was also strangely calm. 

Singapore has a reputation for efficiency but I thought their liberal use of cling film/glad wrap (delete as applicable!) to protect seats and prevent passenger overcrowding was maybe taking attention to detail a little too far?

The next flight to Christchurch was even quieter, with possibly less than 25% occupancy. I managed about two hours of deep sleep, thereby bringing my total sleep

to three hours in the previous thirty; a bit like a vet weekend on call in the olden days! I always get a warm feeling flying into Christchurch, often caused by the norwester that ensures a bumpy descent over the Southern Alps.It did feel good to be back. It was a beautiful sunny afternoon as we exited the aeroplane and had our various documents checked. Within minutes I had collected my luggage and was seated on a bus and driven around the airport for five minutes before arriving at the Novotel.The NZ Army were in attendance but they were armed only with smiles; this seems to be a very efficiently run operation - so far.

This is a brand new hotel and if you are going to do fourteen days isolation you may as well do it in a brand new hotel! Within minutes I was in room 401, which has a bed fit for a giant and a glorious view east over the city towards Banks Peninsula. Now that I think about it, the bed is larger than the entire room my wife managed to book us into during a recent visit to Tonbridge Wells! I fussed around for an hour, finding the best places to put things and then, as my brain became a little fuzzy, forgetting where I had put them. I tested the shower - brilliant! I ate the Vegan curry which was delivered to my room in a paper bag - guest services had already explained that everyone got vegan curry first night, as it saved the complications of sorting out food allergies in a hurry. So vegan curry is now the universal meal, like group 'O' blood, the universal donor? Later it was great to talk with a few local mates and I dutifully informed the waking UK connections that I had arrived; the wifi connection is excellent. A ten minute cat-nap after my shower ensured it was well after ten that lights went out and I slept soundly.