But its true.
And like most of the rest of the previous eight days, we had lots of spare time to fill, but also had to repack, have breakfast and be ready for wheels at the ungodly hour of half eleven.
We remaining five met at breakfast at eight, now pretty much talked out of things to say. But as a treat there was a little bacon and pork sausages, though they were more hot dogs, still able to make a poor, but still good, bacon and sausage sarnie.
Back up to the room then for a couple more hours. Jools went swimming in the hotel pool which it seems was built to look nice without having the actual things you need at a hotel pool, like changing rooms.
She came back, had a shower and dressed, so by eleven we were done and ready to go to the lobby for our final check out. With nothing to pay, we sat in the lobby to wait, which is where our faithful coach driver found us, told us where he had parked, so we could easily find where to load up when the time came.Just after half eleven, the rest came down, and our bags were taken out to the bus, loaded, and we had to do was get on the bus, not before ensuring all our bags were already on.
It was a just a short drive to the airport and international departures, we were dropped off, and then it was up to us to find where to check in.
Only, you need to show both your passport and boarding passes to get into the terminal. And we had checked in online, but were expecting to be able to get the asses printed at the desk. John hadn't told us a copy of the passes would be needed.
So, for twenty minutes I battled the Air India website and self check in until rather than clicking check in, I clicked on manage your booking, and there were our passes, and the military guard was happy and let us enter.
Jools and I were business, the others cargo, but a helpful chap who worked for Air India told us we call all use the business desk because two from the group were business.
Didn't seem legit, but we followed his to domestic check in, he opened at desk and made sure an agent dealt with us. I tipped him well, and so within ten minutes we had all checked our bags in and could get through security, getting our boarding cards triple stamped and cleared to leave India.
Jools and I walked to the lounge, one of two, we could have used the really posh one, but the normal one was good enough, with free food and drink, good seats and clean toilets.
We had lunch, and relaxed for an hour before it was time to walk the three miles to the gate B11.
Needless to say, business were let on first, Jools and I turning left when getting on board, each "pod" having their own huge overhead bin for all carry on one could ever have needed.
We settled in, and once all the announcements and such were done, we looked at the films available, put on our headphones, pressed play as the plane's engines roared, and we climbed into the afternoon sky.
I watched the Bob Dylan biopic, A Complete Unknown, followed by All the Presidents Me, followed by Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Arc and followed finally by Contact.
A Complete Unknown was a very good and logical account of Dyan's rise in the early 60s, to his switch the electric at the Newport Folk Festival that year, some artistic licence was taken, but made the narrative easier to follow.
All The President's Men is one of my favourite films and books, and was a joy to watch with Redford and Hoffman in the leads, and an account of how journalism used to work with verified sources and the rest.
Raiders of the Lost Ark was made better by about 15 years since last watching it last, and stunned as to how young most of the cast were.
Finally, Contact was Carl Sagan's only fiction book, and one I have loved sone it came out, but the first time I have seen the film. It was a bit po-faced and Foster's acting a little bit too serious in portraying a scientist who usually knows what right, and what isn't.
And when all had played we were on final approach to Heathrow.
Sweet.
A long taxi to the stand, then a short wait before we could get off, before a five mile hike up and down to get to immigration, where I got through, but Jools's passport wouldn't scan, so she had to see an official, waiting half an hour in line.
At least our cases were ready when she got out, in Arrival we met the others and the taxi driver, who lead us to his van, loaded up.
Last leg now.
The M25 at night is aways subject to roadworks and possible closures, but even we were shocked by for places where the four lanes went down to one, the last giving us a half hour wait in the resulting jam.
Then down the M20 to Dover and home, getting back at half midnight, of five in the morning of the next day on our own body clock.
We unloaded our cases, and walked to 50 metres home.
Home.
At last.
Its good to travel, but better to get back home.
Time for a brew.
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