The last steps and we are in the long queue checking in our luggage - we're leaving with much more than we came with. At the very last moment, almost to the front of the line, I notice a sign that says, "Do not carry undeveloped film in your check-in luggage". Panic!! A helpful fellow-traveller explains why. The X-ray unit used for carry-on belongings is not as strong as the one used on the checked-in luggage. Film is safe in carry-on bags. So at least we won't be arrested for some security breach. "I don't care!" says Hildebrand, "to Hell with it!" He just wants to get home. He'd run if he could. I drag him and the bags off. There's nowhere to put them. No chairs - except a few in a sort of holding-pen for people in wheel-chairs. No tables or benches. I'm aware that every move we make could look suspicious to the heavily armed guards, but I seem to always have an air of innocent eccentricity about me - or so I'm told. I draw on that, purposefully and calmly put the suitcases on the floor, and sit down beside them. I rummage through the undies, and the packets of souvenir rocks, searching for the scattered film canisters. 1, 2, 3 all the way to 16. Did we take 16? We weren't counting. Anyway that will have to do. Back to the long line of travellers waiting to check in their bags. The nice young man, who was so helpful about explaining the film thing, beckons us back into our old place in line. The queue has not moved at all it seems. The other people smile and cheerfully let us in. Now it's smooth going for us. The trip home is uneventful. I've given up asking about the train whistle, although I note that it still sounds every time we take off or land.
    A big family of young Orthodox Jews, with several babies, are collecting their luggage at Melbourne airport. They stand out in the crowd with their interesting outfits. Their boxes and cases are huge. Maybe they are migrating to Australia. It's a difficult job for them after the long flight. The children are tired and miserable and the women weary and frazzled. They are a serene, quiet group though and things are going fairly well until suddenly a very excited beagle bursts in the door at the far end of the room. He is dragging a customs lady who has to run to keep up. The dog makes a beeline for one of the peaceful-family's bags. It's a large squashy bag one of the mothers has had with her on the plane. It's by her feet at the luggage carousel. The dog has his nose inside the bag snuffling, making little happy doggy noises, and wagging his tail. The customs lady confiscates a big parcel of cheese. It goes into a bin and not the dog's mouth, which is a bit sad I think to myself. The upshot of this is that both of the families have to take all their many big boxes and bags to be searched. It's all very relaxed and friendly however. No visible guns or handcuffs or anything. Just a small glitch in the proceedings. Everybody in the room looks sympathetic but relieved. "Thank heavens it's not me!" the unsaid words on everyone's lips.