Getting onto the waiting plane was like going through a maze; down this corridor then that, down a flight of stairs and along another corridor. There was a man at a barrier, we had to present forms to him before we could pass. Robin had given us the forms twa months before but somehow we'd never had the time to fill them out, We did then, hastily, but he appeared to be satisfied. Then we went around a corner and through a door, on the other side were tables set up and a metal detector where they made sure we weren't going to take anything lethal onto the aeroplane, Valma got through easily since we had decided to leave the revolver and the sub~mach- ine gun at home, explaining my synthesizer took more time. SynthiA - the synthesizer - is a collection of electronic circuits packed into a small box the size and shape of a large attache case. It is quite harmless. but to those not used to the idea of somebody carrying around that particular sort of musical instrument just as anybody else would transport a guitar the thing looks decidedly formidable. First I had to explain what it was and then the inspector, not being satisfied with a look at the front panel, demanded that I pull SynthiA to pieces. I dismantled the machine and exposed its delicate printed circuits and other private parts to public display, By the time I had stripped it down as far as I could I'd collected quite an audience of inspectors and passengers all wanting to know what it was and what it did. Finally they were satisfied that there were no secret compartments and that it wasn't dangerous and the inspector even helped me put it back together again. Then through the metal detector and dawn the aerobridge into the plane. We were shown to our seats and Robin Johnson's comments that DC-8's aren't too good for people prone to claustrophobia struck home. There was no window unless I leaned right back or right forward to peer through those belonging to others and the seat backs were high so we seemed stuck in our own little cubicle. But neither of us suffer from being closed in so this was a mere philosophical observation. The cabin crew went through the usual routine of telling us what to do if the impossible accident happened. As an extra they threw in the business about life jackets, how you blow in here and there or pull these two cords, but I really didn't understand the routine too well and just trusted that the airline mechanics had known what they were doing and the pilots had whole sleeves full of golden circles. We taxied out to the runway, lined up and began the take-off run. The runway at Sydney is rough so we could feel the vibrations coming up through the undercarriage and the plane shaking slightly. The plane went faster and faster and the acceleration pushed us back in our seats- then the shaking stopped and the ground fell away, we had left Australia and 'wouldn't be touching it again for seven weeks. The plane headed straight out over Botany Bay and then the Tasman Sea, the coast fell away behind us and soon was lost in the distance and the darkness as night fell. The flight to Auckland took two and a half hours but it didn't seem that long because we were kept busy. While the aeroplane was still climbing the Air New Zealand service began with the cabin crew pushing great carts up the steep aisles dispensing drinks. After a while they handed out bits of nicely printed cardboard which were menues and then the meal arrived. I seem to have gained the reputation for having a lousy taste in food so the meal must have been good if I liked it. We had an hour and a half at Auckland, our DC-10 to Los Angeles was to depart at ten to midnight so we thought that we might spend some time in the Duty-Free shop.