My sister-in-law arrived today from the U.K. This was only the second long-haul flight she has ever taken and she wasn’t sure what she was allowed to bring in her suitcase. She had heard a variety of people complaining about having metal objects taken off them at the airport and was concerned about some of the things in her case. She decided to ring the airport in advance just to make sure that everything was allowed. I don’t know how the person she spoke to stopped themselves from laughing as she actually asked them if under-wired bras would be classified as dangerous weapons!

After a while the horror of travelling through Heathrow fades. Unfortunately since I’m sitting in terminal 3 the horror is very real. My arms are aching from carrying hand luggage that is too heavy for me and from dragging a too heavy suitcase through the airport. And these bag are not full of things that I bought or too many clothes (I’m feeling a bit sensitive after having to listen to taxi drivers laugh and make jokes about women and their clothes and shoes. I am travelling with one pair of shoes which I’m currently wearing). My luggage is all too heavy because it’s nearly Christmas and I’m carrying home presents from my friends and family. Thankfully Virgin didn’t charge me for the extra weight though I did have to pay Flybe 36 pounds on my first flight.

I never travel with extra weight and was dreading getting my luggage through train stations and airports. But people have been surprisingly helpful. Someone (a guy called Brad who told me that he used to be in a boy band in the early 90s) lifted my suitcase off the train last night and someone else carried it down a set of steps at the train station. I was quite surprised as I don’t really expect anyone to help in a city like London.

Check-in at the airport was particularly poor today. I’m flying Premium Economy with Virgin and they have a dedicated check-in for this class. However, they only had one member of staff checking people in and multiple flights going out. At one point the queue was moving so slowly I estimated that it would be another 60 minutes before I reached the front - and this with only 5 people ahead of me. Thankfully it did speed up. The security queue was horrendous but the staff at Heathrow were in good form so it didn’t seem too bad. One staff member was making jokes and singing Christmas carols which was a welcome change from bad tempered irritated personnel.

Once into the terminal I got to queue again to buy a bottle of water. The terminal is so busy there is a queue right round W H Smith. They have a staff member running up and down the queue asking people if they wish to pay in cash. This sounds good but he can’t give any change and I didn’t fancy paying nearly twice the amount owed so I wouldn’t have to queue.

Now I am going to see if I can find something to eat. I didn’ want to do this because the restaurants are all so full but I think my plane has been delayed. There isn’t a notice saying this but since the gate isn’t opening until about 15 minutes after the flight is scheduled to leave…

Marty and I decided to have a less expensive meal tonight and went to the hotel’s buffet dinner. The word buffet can conjure up images of horrible generic dried up food but the food here was really good. Too good as it was hard to decide what to eat - though Marty seemed to have some of everything. I ended up having a prawn and papaya salad followed by steamed swordfish in a black bean sauce. I did have one dessert too many though as they had a chocolate fountain and I love fruit dipped in chocolate. I also like cake and had some of the coconut and pineapple cake as well. I probably shouldn’t have bothered with the chocolate ice cream but it just looked so tempting. Marty went for some sort of pancake as they had a chef who was making a variety of desserts. The only thing I would change is that I would notice sooner that the sparkler on my Mai Tai was causing bits of charcoal to float into my salad!

Marty and I had the most amazing food for dinner tonight. It was probably the most expensive meal we have had since we arrived in Japan but it may be the best meal I have ever eaten. I won’t do it justice trying to describe it here but each dish, and there were eight of them, was a work of art. We didn’t have any choices to make as we selected the Christmas menu that the chef had put together.

We had three starters: one containing Parma ham, French bread and smoked turkey; the second with abalone and calamari; and the third with caramelised foie gras and apple. The first main course contained lobster and Mibai fish in a seaweed and turmeric sauce. The second had melt in the mouth steak with a port and truffle sauce. The first dessert was a jasmine flavoured crème brûlée and the second was a miniature chocolate pudding with sea salt ice cream. All were amazing even if they sounded a bit strange when I saw them on the menu. They also served tea and coffee, freshly baked bread and champagne.

After writing all that I have just realised that I haven’t mentioned where we ate. We had dinner at the Anvil House Restaurant at the Renaissance Okinawa Resort.

Last night it took over three hours from the time the plane landed until I was checked into the airport hotel. I really wasn’t expecting that to happen and I am really glad I had decided to spend the night at the airport and didn’t try to connect on through to Pittsburgh.

It took me a while to work out where all the time went but I did spend more than an hour standing in a queue at immigration. And actually, for the first time ever, I saw someone being refused entry into the US. Thankfully I didn’t have any problems. After leaving immigration my bag was waiting and customs was really easy to get through.

I then tried to work out how to get to the hotel. None of the airport hotels are actually in the airport and it isn’t really possible to walk to them. I tried to find signs or someone to give me instructions on how to catch the shuttle to the hotel but failed. I then decided to get a taxi as that would be easy. But I really wasn’t expecting there to be no taxis at the airport. There was a queue of well over 100 people waiting on a taxi. They staff were calling for taxis but they were arriving really slowly and I think I waited over an hour to catch one.

What I didn’t know was that there had been serious flooding in that area and all domestic flights had been cancelled. With the roads being flooded taxis were having difficulty getting to the airport and lots of passengers had to try to find somewhere else to spend the night.

When I got to the hotel there was another large queue of people who had been sent there by various airlines. Thankfully I had a confirmed reservation.

There must be some way to feel comfortable when you travel but I haven’t worked out what it is yet. I am sitting in terminal 3 in London Heathrow and it’s really uncomfortable. I’m not really sure why but I think it’s a combination of it being too noisy, too hot and having very poor lighting. My back is also sore from carrying luggage up and down flights of stairs at the train stations I travelled through this morning.

It will probably be more comfortable on the plane but I will be too cold. An even though they provide blankets they won’t let me use one until the plane has taken off and the seat-belt sign has been switched off. I don’t know why they insist on handing these out when you get on the plane if they won’t actually let you use them at that point. Virgin Airlines obviously wants to taunt me with the possibility of being warmer.

I am in a strange limbo state: too tired to sleep and too tired to do anything useful. I tried reading email but I doubt I could provide anyone with a coherent response. I considered logging into Skype so that I could chat to some people but I can’t get my brain and my mouth to work together. My body is confused and I can’t work out whether I am hungry or thirsty as I just feel queasy.

I am horrified by the thought that within a month I am planning on taking another 12 hour plus flight. Hopefully in the next day or two I will start to forget how dreadful I feel at the minute.

Watching my Macbook being tossed down a rolling ramp by harassed security staff makes me wish I was anywhere but Heathrow airport. Tony sent me a link to an article that claimed that travellers passing through Heathrow suffer from higher stress levels than fighter pilots, riot police and Formula 1 drivers. Since I travel a lot I try to do everything I can to make sure that I wouldn’t be stressed now. I stayed at an airport hotel last night as I couldn’t bear the thought of transferring through Heathrow. (Virgin had already posted an announcement apologising for the amount of delayed luggage as it sometimes takes up to three days for them to get luggage from connecting planes when they are supposed to have it within an hour.) I never wear clothes that require belts and I no longer carry any make-up or liquids. My shoes have laces and zips so that they are easy to slip on and off. And I make sure that I arrive at the airport at least 3 hours before my flight.

I was in quite good form today as I got up early and had a leisurely breakfast before leaving the hotel. The security queues were long but I wasn’t pulled out of the line for a random search so it didn’t bother me too much. I was stopped last week when travelling to Vienna and was made stand in one of those machines that takes multiple x-rays of your body. If you thought security was annoying before wait until they make you stand on an x of the floor with your hands above your head as you try to understand the instructions required to get into the three positions they want.

I have started paying for internet access at airports as checking my email and being able to write in this blog help me to feel relaxed. And I have also been really lucky since I managed to find a seat to sit on. Terminal 3 is basically a large shopping centre and I can’t imagine that it has anywhere near enough seats for all the people who are walking through it. Now I just need to mentally prepare myself for sitting on a plane for 12 hours…

I have always had problems eating some foods because of their texture. Lately I have been craving eggs and bacon and thought that I would be able to eat this in the hotel I’m currently staying at in London. But I can only eat eggs that are cooked a certain way. Yesterday I decided to order hard boiled eggs with my breakfast but when these arrived they were soft and runny. That actually made me feel ill. I didn’t complain because there was no way to fix it: once I’d been given the runny eggs I lost my appetite, so bringing me another breakfast just wouldn’t help.

This morning I thought I’d order scrambled eggs as the chef can see these and should be able to tell if they are hard or sort. I again ordered hard eggs but when they arrived the eggs were sitting in a big soft mushy pile on my plate. This was even worse than the boiled eggs as I couldn’t see anything but them on the plate. And it’s not just that my concept of hard and soft are strange as the man sitting at the table next to me had been served hard scrambled eggs that I would have had no problems eating. The only hard thing on my plate was the back bacon which had obviously been left for too long under a kitchen warmer.

I really wish I didn’t have this problem with texture. If I don’t like the taste of something (sprouts, for example) I can have them on my plate and just not eat them; but if it’s something that has a texture I can’t cope: once I’ve seen it I can barely eat anything. I see something like mashed potatoes on my plate and the thought of eating them makes me feel physically sick and, not surprisingly, I lose my appetite.

I have always been this way though I was much worse as a child. My mum took me to the doctors once because I would eat nothing but custard. The doctor told her that if I wanted to eat custard then she should let me eat custard. He believed that eventually I would start to eat other things - and he was right.

I’ve been travelling a lot lately. I’ve only been in Japan for 21 days in the past three months. When I was back in Northern Ireland I did get asked on a few occasions how I felt being back home. I no longer sure where my home is. For some people home is nothing more than the place they are currently living in. Others attach a much more sentimental element to it with cliches such as “home is where the heart is”. I don’t know if I think of Japan as home yet but I realise that I no longer think of Northern Ireland in that way.

I’m looking forward to spending some time in Japan though I will be travelling again at the end of June as I’m speaking at YAPC::NA.