At the risk of appearing or sounding slightly maudlin, I sometimes find myself imagining myself in a plane crash.

It’s usually around take off or landing when a slight fear of flying takes me on this flight of fancy.

I experienced this feeling again today on this afternoon’s flight from Sydney to Melbourne.

In all other respects it was perfect. I got to the airport in time and without fuss. When I got to the airport there was hardly anyone there, and so when I dropped off my bag I was virtually the only one in the queue. And then on the aircraft itself, I was pleased to be sharing the middle three seats with just one other bloke. Bliss.

But just minutes after take-off, and with a slight rumble as we went through turbulence, I found myself contemplating my own existence.

“Are my affairs in order?”, I thought to myself. “Who’ll go through ‘my things’?” I wondered.

I’ve never had a fear of flying in the classic sense, but I do find my mind sometimes wandering around take-off and touch-down. That’s why I usually try and fall asleep for both events.

The only other weird irrational thought I have concerns being seated in the far left seat in the back row.

Imagine, if you would, the satellite view. You’re in a piece of metal hurtling through the air at great speed and you’re completely surrounded on all sides. To your left and behind you there’s a wall, and to your front and to your right there are people. So that even if you wanted to escape you’re trapped. That’s exactly the crazy kind of thought I sometimes have while flying. Mad, eh?

Today was my first flight since coming back from Sweden, and there was a kind of weird symmetry about it all. I had the same bag, though more lightly packed, and my luggage included same warm jackets and a scarf.

Just as the Swedes are enjoying the warmer weather after months of snow and ice, we’re heading into winter.

And while Sydney winters are generally quite mild, Melbourne is on a different scale.

Last year I would have struggled with the colder months. Mentally, now, I’m still not sure I’m ready being a lad who, generally speaking, prefers the tropics. But I figure that, having recently experienced sub-zero temperatures on a daily basis, including being outside at night when it was as low as minus 15, that I should be able to cope with a Melbourne in May.

In fact, the weather’s pretty good. While Sydney has had heavy rain tonight, Melbourne’s been reasonably mild. Loving it.

Coming down has meant that I’ve also been able to see Sue (and her mum who is staying with her right now).

The next forty-eight hours are reasonably intense. I’ve got a lot of work to do. And then on Thursday, I’m heading off to Adelaide, returning Friday afternoon.

As much as I like travelling, I’m guessing by Friday night I’ll be looking forward to being back in my own bed.