Queenstown Times journalist James Beech says he'll be late for work this week - and here's his excuse ...
It seemed like a straightforward enough plan.
Pop back to the old country for a couple of weeks during Queenstown's autumn shoulder season to see my folks and attend the wedding of one of my oldest friends.
Little did I and millions of fellow travellers know an unpronounceable volcano on a bankrupt island would decide to cough up to 500 tonnes of molten ash per second into the atmosphere and propel a cloud of abrasive dust particles of Old Testament proportions between terra firma and the cruising altitude of airliners in northern Europe.
Our best laid plans have gone up in smoke.
We were all aware Eyjafjallajokull had blown its top on Wednesday, but, as I confidently explained to mother at the train station on Friday, the chill winds of the North Atlantic would undoubtedly send the ash cloud high over British heads and on to somewhere helpful to us, like Russia.
Besides, my flight out of Heathrow was not until Sunday night.
Plenty of time for the whole thing to blow over and normal air service to resume, I thought.
While the beautiful wedding of Alex and Catherine was blessed with perfect spring weather, dark clouds filtered in to me about the state of Britain's airspace from concerned guests when they heard I was due to fly back to New Zealand.
Guests from Germany and Spain had been unable to make the party and there was a question mark looming over the newlyweds' honeymoon in Turkey.
Feeling not so confident about the North Atlantic winds by Sunday morning, I called the Qantas hotline.
After 50 solid minutes of didgeridoo music, a human being answered.
The friendly woman was profuse in her apologies, as if the volcano eruption had been her idea, and broke the news to me.
My flight had bitten the dust.
My itinerary of planes, trains and automobiles had been nailed down to the minute.
I had bade fond farewell to my nearest and dearest and dragged four heavy bags around the Peak District ahead of my return flight.
I was refreshed, reinvigorated and excited about returning to that city-in-the-making among the mountains on the far side of the world.
But an anonymous volcano suddenly decided to erupt after about 130 years of silence and had achieved what most bedsit terrorists can only dream of - it had grounded every single inbound and outbound flight in the United Kingdom.
This eruption has had a greater impact than the 9/11 terror attacks.
The earliest flight out of Heathrow I could board was a whole week later, Qantas said.
The wedding weekend over, like the Prodigal Son, I had no choice but to spend the next eight dejected hours on various trains to return to the family home and sit it out.
Casting your eyes heavenward reveals no sign of the ashes-to-ashes apparently. The only clues were in the redder-than-usual sunrises and sunsets.
The volcano's effect on British tourists overseas and the aviation industry is competing with the general election for news coverage and generating as much hot air.
At least I'm luckier than many.
There have been countless stories of families either camping out at airports or scrabbling for sky-high Eurostar and ferry tickets.
Passengers are spending hundreds of pounds to get back home by any means necessary.
The idea of a holiday extension may have started as a novelt , but stranded British tourists are running low on funds.
Many are dealing with restless children, some have medical needs and virtually all have jobs to get back to.
Travel insurance companies are claiming the disruption is an "act of God" and are shrugging their shoulders at claimants.
A Dunkirk-inspired flotilla of volunteer motorboats attempted to cross the channel to rescue Britons free of charge, but was turned back by French authorities.
Luckily, the Royal Navy aircraft carrier Ark Royal and the assault ships Ocean and Albion have been dispatched to bring back up to 200,000 Britons from the Continent.
Every update on the flight ban extended the time when flights would resume.
However, a breakthrough came in Scotland, on Tuesday, at 7am UK time, when the ban was first relaxed.
But given the huge backlog of passengers and the fact that airliners and crews are not where they should be, it could take weeks for normal service to resume, and that is assuming the volcano co-operates.
I'm counting myself lucky.
I have a roof over my head and I get to enjoy my mother's cooking for a little longer than expected.
Meanwhile, like millions of people scattered around the world, I am impatient to get home.
