5:43 am. I’m wide awake. I’ve only slept three and a half hours (just about), and the alarm is set for 6 am. So annoying. I’m convinced that those 17min would have made all the difference. I linger in bed, but eventually extract myself. I still need to finish packing and apply the finishing touches to getting the flat ready for the guests who are staying while I’m away. I’m too tired to be excited, though I’m very much looking forward to going back, it’s been 21 months (but who’s counting). I’ve compensated by booking nearly six weeks in a gorgeous flat by Tel-Aviv’s shabby-chic (or just shabby) Carmel market. Mid 20s Celsius, not a cloud in the sky. Israeli winter for you (with global warming thrown in). The pre-flight PCR test results arrived in good time, I’ve filled in the online forms, got the green pass, booked my arrival PCR test, passport at the ready (I must remember to extend it).

There’s always more to do than I plan for and it always takes more time than I think it aught to. How very inconsiderate of it. Urgency turns into panic, but I somehow manage to make it to the airport at a reasonable time. It’s not very busy and the check-in process is pretty smooth. I even have time for a sandwich and a coffee at the departure lounge and a few bits and pieces at Boots.

Mask on, boarding pass to hand, been to the loo, I’m ready. I’m told to embark at the front. My seat is in the last row. I plead with the security guard who takes pity on me and I ascend the rear boarding stairs in the chilly winter sun. Goodbye UK, see you again (not too) soon. 

Thank goodness I got in from the back. The plane is heaving. Mostly orthodox Jewish families. Please god may these toddlers remain happy and content for the duration. 

No one wears a mask.  
N o   o n e   w e a r s   a   m a s k !
Ok, some do, but so many don’t. Unbelievable. I comment to the air stewardess who seems weary. I explain that announcing on the speaker is just not going to cut it with this lot and they need to ask people in person. The head steward sounds increasingly irritated on the speaker. ‘These are the rules and if you don’t like it you’re invited to leave the plane, end of.’ he deplores. No one takes notice. Now, I don’t actually mind that much about the masks if I’m brutally  honest, I’m not particularly concerned for my own wellbeing having had Covid and recently vaccinated. It’s the disregard that I find offensive, and all too familiar. Welcome home. And there may be vulnerable people on board. I’m tired and my tolerance levels quickly evaporate. I mount my high horse and gallop to the front of the plane, then walk up the aisle looking people straight in the eye asking one by one to put on their masks. I must look deranged as they all promptly comply (even that guy who asks me to explain why he should, but quickly gets I haven’t got the patience). The weary stewardess (and some of the passengers) thank me. I feel like a hero returning from battle. Naturally some people take their masks back off during the flight, but I’ve done my bit and am not going to make any more fuss. Funnily when I happen to walk past them they promptly put it back on. I clearly left an impression. 

The flight otherwise goes pretty smoothly. I’m awarded a free drink by the weary stewardess for my heroic intervention (sparking water thank you), and between napping, Netflixing, nibbling, and going through a little script I need to learn, time goes by pretty quickly. As does the immigration and arrival PCR test at the airport, in a strange combination of chaos and army like efficiency. 

I opt for the train, then a bus to the flat. I walk slowly down the street, taking in the warmth, the sounds, the dirt, the aromas, youngsters with little on zoom by on electric scooters, I can smell the sea. Hello Tel-Aviv, it’s been a while. 

The friend who found this lovely flat for me also made sure the fridge is packed with fresh food. Fragrant fruit and veg, eggs, cheese, delicious humus and salads. I’ve got everything I need to quarantine for a week if needed. 

It’s late. A long warm shower, going through my script, I aught to be really tired, but I’m strangely wide awake, snuggled in the comfy bed, clean sheets, soft pillows, bliss. It’s 2am. I receive the all clear from the PCR test.