Having a domestic flight that connects to an international flight hasn’t always gone that well for me. It’s not always the best of ideas anyway. The driver wanted me in the lobby for 04:30, and said I’d be at the airport for 05:00 - just under two hours before my flight. I wasn’t a fan of that but accepted his judgement, he does know the area far better than I ever could of course.

I’d been awake for some time as someone had been using power tools, specifically something that sounded like it was sanding or grinding, to do work on the hotel toilets since just before 02:00. When reviews said this was a noisy hotel, they weren’t kidding. I’d had so little sleep in that hotel, that whilst it seems nice, I could never recommend it to anyone.

I reached the airport at 04:55, and had to show my passport and boarding pass to enter. I of course didn’t have a boarding pass yet as IndiGo doesn't allow online check-in for codeshare flights. Once they decided that was okay, I headed straight to the IndiGo desk. This too wasn’t without its fun as Virgin Atlantic had missed out my middle name when sharing details with IndiGo, so they had to find out if that was okay first. The positive though was they confirmed my luggage would be checked through all the way to Heathrow with no need to collect in Delhi.

Security is then an interesting one. I had to not just remove the iPad and my cameras from my bag, but also lenses, batteries, my power bank, and earphones too. This would be the same in New Delhi too.

I’d been given the dreaded middle seat for this flight again. Everyone who finds themselves in a row with nobody else finds themselves watching every passenger that passes by, wondering if those seats will be taken. As soon as the “boarding complete” announcement was made, I knew I could relax in the knowledge that I could spread out.

It was a quick flight, and I didn’t expect to be given some biscuits of some sort, apple and mango juice, and some sort of seed thing I didn't try.

From Terminal 2 it’s a short walk over to Terminal 3 where you need to show your passport and a valid ticket to enter. As my bag was checked through all the way to London, I could head straight to immigration and security. Both were fairly quick, and for the next seventy minutes I waited for the boarding to begin.

Before boarding I got called over to the gate for them to scan my passport and boarding pass, I guess because of not coming via the check-in desk since I’d already got my boarding pass. It’s not something I’ve had to think about before.

This time I got an aisle seat, much better than my flight out here. The seat next to me was free too, so another win!

With 8.5 hours until landing in Heathrow I’d got a lot of time to pass, and for some of that I really needed to close my eyes and hope I could sleep as I’d need to be awake enough to drive home after twenty hours since I’d woken up.

As I figured there’d be a meal service early on, I chose to watch the new version of The Running Man whilst waiting for that. My meal this time was chicken rara, but I didn’t feel like eating it. I also lost two things: the blanket I’d stowed under the seat in front as the lady in front took it from underneath my feet, and the seat beside me was taken when one of his friends moved next to him. Not really a problem. but his elbow was constantly so far over my seat that not only was he inadvertently elbowing me in the stomach every now and then, he also knocked over my apple juice. It was a miracle I stopped any spilling out.

About ninety minutes before the end was another meal service that was a vegetable pakora, marble cake and rice crackers. As I’d not been able to nap, I watched Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale, and Karate Kid: Legends.

Surprisingly, the flight landed about twenty minutes early. Once through immigration I waited patiently for my bag, and the second it appeared I made my way to the car park that Uber does pick ups from, and got ready to book it when I was only a couple of minutes from the pickup location. The last leg of my journey home had arrived, and my trip was truly over.

Maybe the President of the United States had called India a ‘hellhole,’ but this trip had proven it was anything but. Sure it can be a sensory overload, but it’s a sort of anarchy that works for them as everyone is still following the same rules as each other. Different does not automatically mean bad. How can anywhere that has produced so many well thought out and detailed forts, palaces, and the Taj Mahal be anything but brilliant?

Every city in the Golden Triangle was different, and something you can only truly understand by visiting for yourself.