Many years ago, when I moved back to Australia from England, I used to have nightmares that my husband would go back to London and there would be some kind of disaster that prevented him returning. I'd wake up crying. That's the antipodean tyranny of distance for you - the constant heart shift between two countries, so far apart that we are in completely different time zones. The reassurance has always, always been that if 'anything should happen', god forbid, 'we're only a twenty four hour plane ride away'.

Except it's not.

Earlier last year, my husband's step father got dangerously ill. So ill that his sister said he'd better come home. Only twenty four hours, right? But by the time we booked the tickets, and got him on a plane, it was too late. By the time the plane refuelled in Brunei, he was dead. Being twenty four hours away is not a reassurance, and is even less so in this not-quite-yet-post-viral world.

When WHO announced the pandemic, we rushed to the UK from India, where we'd been travelling after leaving Melbourne two weeks before. Within two days of landing, we were in lock down, and like many, we felt the walls closing in. My immediate panic was about getting home, to where my family was. My nightmare had come true - here I was, stuck on the other side of the globe, and I wasn't sure if planes were going to even start flying again at all. I was ready to walk back to Australia if it came to that - although my husband was hoping I'd allow him a Landrover Defender to overland in at least.

We decided not to fly immediately, because that felt too risky. At that stage, we felt as if the risk of getting the virus was too great. Three months on, and the measures put in place made things feel a little safer, and whilst the expat flights via Quantas were fully, more flight routes were starting up through the middle East. We made the decision to go with Emirates, mainly for their reputation, but also because they were reasonably priced at 700 pounds - around 1400 Australian dollars, at current prices. Would it be the Emirates of old? I enjoyed my flight with them fifteen years ago, but things have changed. Rumours were flying all over the internet - no inflight entertainment, no walking up and down the aisles, no hot food. We swallowed our anxiety and hoped for the best, whilst expecting the worst.

It is the strangest thing going to an international hub of transport such as London - which, last year, saw around 210,000 pass through it's airport - and being one of only fifty odd travellers finding their way home, or to jobs in other countries, as was the case with a few, who, like us, nervously donned mask and gloves, and physically distanced our way through scant queues and efficient bag checks. In many ways, it was far better than the push and shove of the pre-Covid travel madness. The only sadness for me was the lack of eye contact. What was the point if you couldn't see people's smiles through the mask?

The alternate reality feeling stayed with us on the first leg from London to Dubai. There was only twenty people on board, all distanced from each other, which was pleasant to say the least. The worst thing about flying that far is coughing, farting and sleeping in close confines with strangers, let alone sharing a toilet with them. Even that was better - the toilets were meticulously cleaned every hour or so.

The empty seats - look at all that stretch-out room!

The hygiene was certainly a focus of the flight. The air stewards wore PPE - stylish, of course, as Emirates is - and we were given a box that contained masks, hand sanitisers, wipes and gloves. Whilst we wore gloves at the airport, including the stop over in Dubai, we didn't need to wear the gloves on the plane, thank goodness. Sweaty hands is not pleasant. We were advised to try not to walk up and down the aisles or linger in 'communal spaces' - please tell me where these are on a plane? - but after three months of the virus, no one really needed to be told.

PPE and empty seats LONDON - DUBAI

According to Airline Geeks, Emirates has laid off many employees in respone to Covid-19 - some 6500 cabin crew and some engineers have been let go, and 180 pilets who were undergoing training, as well as hundreds of trainee cabin crew. Such economic management is not specific to Emirates. Again, the feeling of eerieness and awe overwhelmed us as we saw hundreds of aircraft grounded in London, Dubai and Melbourne. The full economic cost of this pandemic will not hit us for months, if not years, but already it is possible to see how the figures will translate into human suffering.

Social distancing in practice in Dubai airport.

However, the crisis has not affected the high level of service that Emirates provides. We did have in house entertainment, blankets, pillows, travel socks, ear buds, eye masks and hot meals. I enjoyed an okra curry with rice and dahl, a chocolate cherry mousse, fruit salad, a bread roll and yoghurt. 'Breakfast' on the second leg - this is where the time differences started making you feel weird, as time wise it was not breakfast time for a London clock - was either cheese omelette or a vegetarian meal of hash browns and some really yummy spinach 'sausage'. We also had a poached chicken with a spicey tomato and chick pea sauce, and vegetables. I stretched out and slept very well.

If you're facing a long haul flight, and worrying about the quality, don't. It's better than you think.

Plane food, not plain food.

Arriving in Melbourne was also a breeze. We had to wait for a little longer on the plane as they read us out the legal requirements which we had to sign off when we exited. All the government and airline staff were beyond reproach as they kindly and efficiently directed us, handing us forms to fill in dietary requirements and leaflets which outlined what to expect during our stay. Funnelled onto a Skybus, the fifteen remaining people (some transitted elsewhere) were taken to Novotel on Collins Street, a usually upmarket hotel, processed, given juice, and apple and a chicken wrap should we be hungry, and very quickly we were in our room, and the door shut behind us.

We had arrived. Two weeks stretched out before us between four walls.

Both of us looked at each other and tuned into our rising discomfort. The room was nice - quite big, with a couch, a recliner, desk, fridge, robe and ensuite. Big glass windows - which you can't open - look out into the enclosed, glass roofed courtyard, where no natural light enters the room. As far as rooms go, it was very nice, and we were happy with the 'hotel lottery', as online Australian hotel quarantine groups call it. It could have been much, much worse.

After a few hours sleep, our circadian clocks woke us at 4.45 am. Sex, exercise, yoga, shower. 7.30 am, we called for coffee. I made a huge note to self to NOT drink coffee in a hotel room - it's too jittery when one needs to be zen. I can't imagine what it's like to be a smoker, as I say to the health nurse, who rings to check up on us. She says they are dealing with such problems as best they can, and we joke a little before she says she can put us on the 'walking list' - I don't know yet what that means. I'm sure the online groups can tell me, but I don't want to know. I'm beginning to realise that small mysteries are worth relishing in a day that could look bleak, should we choose to see it that way.

Breakfast. The hotel staff are clearly trying their best.

Breakfast comes at 8 am, with little loving touches on the bag. I feel warmed by these human touches - people really are trying their best to accomodate us psychologically, recognising that it's no mean feat to be imprisoned like this for so long. Of course I can draw comparisions to people in actual prison, or worse, detention centres, which helps a little.

We can order online Woolworths deliveries whenever we like (expect a twenty four hour wait for the delivery slot) and the care packages from family are allowed twice in the two weeks, which, once packaged, has to be picked up by a government paid taxi. We can't order in alcohol, but we can get alcohol from the hotel bar - two choices of red wine, if we want to spend $20 - $27. We'll be allowed about one bag of laundry before we have to pay for it, and if we want to clean our room, well, that'll be up to us.

In fact, everything is now going to be up to us.

It was up to us this morning to not scream at the lack of natural light and no real view to speak of (a dirty alleyway would be better than architectural lights). It was up to us to not lie in the darkness at 4 am realising the day was going to be very long, and instead get up and do yoga and meditation. It's going to be up to us to be positive and make the most of this strange, strange room, where night and day seem to bleed into each other.

We may have made it back to Australia, but we've still got a way to go before we can get home.