The irony was not lost on the majority of passengers as Ryanair’s traditional bugle sounded to herald a flight which was on time, writes Tracey O’Sullivan, who was stranded in Spain.

It’s a gimmick used by the low budget airline which would normally pass without much notice. But not on Saturday.

Officially, we were early landing on the runway at Birmingham Airport just before 11.30pm – but technically you could say we were a week late.

So while the bugle was a welcome sound of home it was some very weary passengers who acknowledged it with a wry smile. No applause but a smile made possible by the fact that they were finally on British soil.

And the headline on the in-flight magazine dated April 16 also seemed to have been badly timed – “Lanzarote – it’s Volcanic Cusine”.

This was not something most of those on the plane, who had been stranded in Spain for a week or more by that troublesome volcanic ash cloud, could stomach.

But at least they were heading home, although the misery was far from over for some.

There were tales of families divided as they struggled to get seats on planes bound for Britain and people wearing almost every stitch they owned as they grabbed seats on changed airlines at the last minute without the time to pack for Ryanair’s strict weight limit.

Our unexpected extended holiday finally picked up after the planes began taking off again and we did enjoy our last few days trying to make the most of some bonus family time while feeling the utmost sympathy for those who had faced long and difficult journeys home.

But on Saturday there was an uneasy feeling and after we arrived at the airport the there was an agonised wait before we boarded and the plane lifted into the air.

Tensions were high and patience was tested for those ushered on by a team keen to execute a quick turnaround, but once airborne you could feel that ease and the stories changed to those of enjoying some of that enforced extended holiday.

But on arriving home I was given a stark reminder of what the chaos really meant for those left stranded and those still desperately struggling to get back.

My sister, who collected us from the airport, told me my dad had been rushed to hospital on the Saturday we were originally due to be home after he was taken ill in the early hours of the morning.

Fortunately it was nothing serious and he was discharged 12 hours later after a series of tests. They took the decision not to tell me because of our predicament and my family didn’t want me to worry while I couldn’t get home. Because they knew I would have wanted to be with them.

We joked while away, in a bid to keep our spirits up, that there was nothing to rush back for.

But of course it just shows that we take that ability to get to where we need to for granted. When it’s taken away it does remind you how much of a leap we are making when we travel to far flung shores, even for just a holiday, and how much we leave behind.

It’s good to be home.