After all those months of waiting out Malaysia's Movement Control Order in England, we're finally back where we should have been at the end of April...

What a major epic this has all been...

On Thursday we drove from Norwich to Heathrow. Absolutely not what we would normally do. But you know the reason... On the way, we saw a rainbow, and we heard Kylie Minogue's awesome new single, Say Something: "We all got wanderlust in the darkest place... We're just trying to find ourselves in the storms we chase... In an endless summer, we can find our way."

Good omens, we thought.


The rest of the journey was, well -- "considerably more hassly than usual" would be a fair description.

I don't know what reasons our fellow airport-users had for travelling. We've heard a few stories: the guy joining a cruise ship in the Philippines (for work, but I don't know what sort of work, as I thought those things were all out of business by now); a group of Russian sailors joining a ship; students returning from the wreckage of their overseas university courses; oil workers returning from a months-long contract in Cyprus...

And then there's us. Going home. Finally.

For my part, I wouldn't be flying if I didn't have to... Air travel in the age of covid is really not something you would be choosing to do.

Aside from all the admin we've had to wade our way through, there's all the extra packing (have you got enough face masks and hand sanitizer for the journey, and enough snacks to tide you over in the areas where outlets are not open, and/or you have a super-long wait?).

There's more queuing (at Heathrow, for example, they get you to start your wait outside, in order to facilitate social distancing inside). All sensible. All hassly.

And there are hazards galore. There are the people who just forget about social distancing as soon as they get inside an airport. There are the people who just will not wear their face covering properly. (One guy across the aisle from us on the first flight was at one point wearing two masks, but neither of them over his mouth or nose... Come on, people... The science is all over the place on many covid-related topics, but it's pretty clear that you don't catch it through your chin...)

Our airline (Qatar) tells passengers to wear face shields (that's us at the top wearing ours) as well as face masks during the flight. It's uncomfortable, but it's a good idea, not only because that category of the Great Unmasked is always going to be with us, but also because people are much closer to you on an aircraft than you've been used to in recent times. Despite the relatively light loading of the first plane, we'd been put in the same block of three as another guy. Three of us jammed together, when there were other whole blocks of three free. We moved as soon as we could.

But, taking into account the unpropitious circumstances, they were pleasant enough flights (London to Doha, Doha to KL). The staff (dressed in masks, goggles, and disposable overalls) were attentive and friendly. The food was good. In something of a world record, I found three interesting movies to watch (A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood, Knives Out, and Judy), one after the other, without first blundering into any of the turkeys that you have to abandon after five minutes.


We reached KL on time, but we weren't in our airport hotel until 5.30 pm -- four hours after landing.

Those four hours involved lots of waiting, a fair amount of confusion (our Sarawak destination made everything more complicated), and another (compulsory and extremely painful) swab test (that's another change of regulation -- previously, our Tuesday test would have taken us all the way to Kuching).

But when you look at the enormity of the operation that's been set up there (with dedicated teams of medical, immigration, security, and cleaning staff operating in specially cordoned off spaces), you can't help but feel moved. It's like my reaction to the guys in Britain, determinedly finding ways to do business, despite everything. These responses make me feel there is still hope for humanity. We take the initiative; we apply our wits; we adapt; we carry on.


Anyway, the evening passed with a nice glass of Tiger, the first Malaysian food for six months (roti jala and char kuey teow), vast quantities of water, a shower whose coldness was not entirely welcome but certainly invigorating, and an early bedtime. We'd been on the go by then -- cleaning, travelling, going through processes -- for 33 hours.


We were told to turn up three hours early for our 9.15 onward flight to Kuching this morning. But things went quite smoothly. We registered with the tracking app, presented our documentation, filled in our health declaration, had our temperature taken at three different points -- and that was pretty much it. We had plenty of time to watch the sun rise, and count the rows of aircraft that have been fitted out for long-term storage.



Air Asia are quite impressive, I think, in the adaptation measures they've undertaken. Just little things -- like disembarking row by row -- but they do help to stop everyone crowding together.

We landed early at Kuching, and we were the only people on the flight who needed to be sectioned off. So we were through the airport pretty quickly, and were the only ones on the bus to the Hock Lee Hotel, which is where we have to see out our quarantine period.

Quarantine... Now's there's a word I didn't think I'd be including in my accounts of our Big OE.

The Hock Lee looks as though it's gearing up to be a major quarantine hotel (they started taking people yesterday), and now definitely feels more like a hospital than a hotel.

And it was here that I found out we have to have another TWO of those excruciating and expensive covid tests. I'd been pretty philosophical about all the arrangements up to now, but this was news that met with my clearly voiced disapproval.

We've been really worked over by this testing thing, and all the associated rule changes. We were among the last to need the expensive and worry-inducing covid test before arrival, and among the first to need the full-monty swab test at KL airport.

And now two more. Seriously... The test at the end, well, yes, that seems pretty obvious. But THREE OTHERS in the space of six days...?

Anyway, by about 12.30, having written our name, passport number, address, and telephone number what seemed like a million times, we were finally free to go to our room -- taking care not to skid on the copious amounts of disinfectant with which the corridor floor had just been cleaned.

Unfortunately, we'd missed lunch, which is delivered to the door at 11.30. Unfortunately, too, we have a kettle but no teabags. I really wish we'd known about this, as we could so easily have provisioned up.

The room is a decent size. The internet seems to work. From our window, apart from an air conditioning unit that seems big enough to serve the whole city, we can see a tiny patch of river, and, tantalizingly -- our apartment...


I'm feeling very flat at the moment. We're back, but we're not home.

We're not home in two senses:

We have two weeks coming up with no walking, no sunlight, and no choice in terms of food (apart from giving instructions about no rice and no bread for Nigel).

And we're not in the home city we left. We don't know what things are like out there, now that covid has struck. We have to figure it all out again.

So it is all somewhat flattening.

But, hopefully, this is just the fatigue of the journey talking. Hopefully, I'll feel more positive tomorrow.

As Renee/Judy sings in the film: "Somewhere, over the rainbow, skies are blue, and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true."