Once through, we went on the hurry up to enter the Emirates "lounge", passing as we did Bonus Dad at reception demanding reseating for his family on their next flight. Even though #1 Daughter had her boarding card, I figured they could still ask her to move, and decided that if push came to shove she should deploy the tactic she was advised to adopt when she couldn't get the modules she wanted when doing a stint at a US university - i.e. "burst into tears".
Once in the "lounge" (I put that in inverted commas as it's like calling the O2 "a concert hall". It's feckin' huge) the joyful reunion happened (just a bit of me wishing we'd stuck to the original grand surprise plan) and we settled down to pass the 90 minutes or so to the next flight.
#1 Daughter declared she couldn't possibly eat another thing, and (Yelp stalwart that she is) proceeded to run through the photos of the food she'd had on her Emirates flight from Manchester, making me feel very jealous. I too didn't feel that I wanted to eat, thinking I'd be better off waiting for the meal on the aircraft. Now, that was a decision I would come to regret, but as it was I settled for a juice and fruit. I had wanted coffee but was put off by the presence of those awful machines, which rank with the conveyor toaster as an object I'd happily see removed from this earth.
Once the ladies in the party had completed the purchase of duty free requested by #1 Son, and returned with their neatly tied up boxes (Australia having the policy of duty free alcohol having to be loaded separately into the aircraft, I think) I went off to pillage the washrooms for shaving and dental kits. On my return the flight was being called so we set off for the gate and lifts that deposit you at the level for the correct airbridge. There was a bit of a queue as we (along with the others) had to deposit our bottles and then have a secondary bag screening before entering the lift. Which refused to move. And then refused to let us out. Some frenzied button stabbing eventually had the doors responding, so off we all got and trooped to the next lift, which thankfully did work as advertised.
Back to the same aircraft on which we'd arrived, another cheery named greeting and back to "our" seats., fully cleaned and squared away in the intervening 90 minutes. Nobody came to ask that I move from 19F, so I figured Bonus Dad had not been successful in his attempts to rearrange the seating. (As it turned out, I didn't see them on the flight at all so I'd been worrying unnecessarily). With a new, unknown, neighbour the constraints of the seating pairs became evident for. as in PE, the place to rest drinks etc is the shared shelf space between the seats, with the attendant unspoken negotiation of turf and territory. At least the champagne came in flutes; the VS boules could cause much friction. (oh, the small mercies)
Away on time, and once in the air the crew came round, introduced themselves (again addressing us all by name, engaging in chitchat about what we would be doing in Sydney) and then set about service. I was enamoured of the young man serving me who when pouring my g&t declared "turbulence!" and threw another measure in. PJs and amenity kits were offered out again, and we were actively sought out and handed landing cards to be completed, none of this “do you need a landing card?”
Unfortunately the service couldn't make up for the poor food. I thought I'd go for a lamb concoction, but I was told only one serving had been loaded and was already ordered, so I opted for chicken.
Now, to paraphrase a Jimmy Buffett song, that chicken died in vain and I couldn't face another Reuben so went hungry for the moment.
IFE selection was exactly the same (not surprising given it was the same aircraft) but I settled in for the longish haul with "Lincoln" after which it was time for PJs, mattress and sleep. Being able to plan the sleep and actually be comfortable enough so that it happened was a great benefit in the end and must have been a significant contributory factor to the minimal jet lag experienced at both ends of the trip. As, to be honest, was a more measured than traditional intake of alcohol and water, given that there was no temptation to guzzle given the length of the flight and the opportunity to partake of the things on offer.
Sleep was interrupted at one point by hunger, so I wandered forward to visit the self service snack bar that was at the front of the upper deck. It's beyond the forward galley, and next to a small lounge area with a bench seat and a huge IFE screen that seems to show only the Skymap. Not sure that cheese and onion crisps were exactly what my dietician would have ordered, but they kicked the taste buds into gear and calmed my growling innards. This lounge facility felt like a bit of wasted space to be honest; I think Qantas promote it as an area for business meetings, but really? Being forward of the galley also meant that you had to know the facility was there, and have to do that crew disturbing thing when they are sat about filling in forms, shooting the breeze about ignoring HWVLover's call light, and, due to the way one of the crew was sitting with legs up, providing a flash of gusset that I did not really need at that time of night.
After some more sleep and a half decent breakfast, we were on the ground in Sydney on schedule and more than a bit of me was thinking “WTF? I never thought I’d be doing this…”
We may well have been given some form of fast track cards (my memory’s not what it once was), and were quickly at the passport desks, where MrsPJH and #1 Daughter sailed through and I, along with seemingly half of the UK passport holders on the aircraft had to go for a secondary reading of the passport. This wasn’t just the new style chip passports, as MrsPJH was issued the same day as mine, but quite what the problem was never revealed. The queue for this secondary check was rather chaotic, and it did seem that just whenever your passport came to the top to be dealt with another batch was dumped on top. There was a lot of huffing and puffing going on in the queue, but it struck me that a state of zen calm was preferable given that these folks have to right to send you packing.
Once reunited with my passport and welcomed into the country, we were quickly through baggage collection (including picking up the duty free) and out to find the two cars waiting for us to take us to our next reunion with #1 Son at the apartment we’d booked on Kent Street and what turned out to be a truly great adventure.
Verdict on QF? A solid and comfortable experience, badly let down by the food.
We can get better, because we're not dead yet
