No polar bears

The plane to Japan flew east over Europe and Asia, avoiding Ukrainian and Russian airspace. I followed the route in the flight info app on the screen in the back of the seat in front of me. I assumed we’d take the same route home.

The plane home flew east.

I was almost certain the pilot knew what he was doing.

The plane turned northeastwards.

I watched a film about a creepy AI doll that goes badly wrong.

The plane was flying between Russia and Alaska, having avoided flying over Russia, apparently following the International Date Line (IDL). I don’t know what day it is on the IDL. Perhaps it’s best not to dwell.

I tried to get some sleep, but every time I started dozing off, something unpleasant or weird would happen. When I opened my eyes, nothing unpleasant or weird was happening.

The plane was flying over the Arctic Ocean, on the Wednesday side of the IDL (see extra).

I woke Mr Pandammonium. ‘We’re flying over the Arctic!’

That’s as far north as either of us have been.

It was cloudy below; breaks in the cloud showed massive cracks in the ice, but there were no polar bears. Maybe they were all in bed.

The sun rose on the other side of the plane, super bright and super pink (see extra, taken through a window across the other side of the plane), then set somewhere behind us, lighting up half the moon (see extra for my best ever moon photo).

The flight app on the screen in the back of the seat in front of me showed the IDL. I assumed it would end at the North Pole. When we drew level with it, the light on one side was like sunset; one the other it was like nighttime; in the middle, it was like daylight (see extra).

I’m not sure what day or time it is in the North Pole because all the time-zone lines and the IDL end there. It’s perhaps better not to dwell.

I finished my book, The Testaments, a sequel of sorts to The Handmaid’s Tale.

I put on a film, but I was really too tired to watch it; I didn’t have time to finish it anyway, because we landed.

Once through passport control and customs, we got the Tube to King’s Cross. We had enough time to get a sausage roll, a doughnut and a coffee before the train home.

The ticket barrier said no.

Harsh, but fair: our tickets were off-peak, which doesn’t start till nine or nine-thirty, depending on whether you’re in an urban or a rural location, and it was before nine.

On the plus side, it meant I had nearly an hour to find a new book in WHSmith’s to read on the train. They had a promotion on: buy one, get one half price; thus I was forced to buy two books instead of one.

It’s lovely to go away somewhere. Japan was weird and complicated and confusing; it was welcoming and warm and wonderful.

It’s lovely to get home again.

We’re going to watch Lost in Translation with snacks whose ingredients don’t need to be checked via Google Translate for fish products and with the first decent cup of tea in two weeks.

We’ll enjoy the weird peace and quiet until Mr Perkins comes home tomorrow.