I arrived in Camp Bastion, Helmand province almost 24 hours after leaving RAF Brize Norton.

My journey to the airbase had been a hectic one after I slept through two alarm clocks and woke with only an hour to travel 87 miles.

After a frantic drive I kissed my fiancee and my son goodbye for what I hoped wouldn't be the last time.

Hurry up and wait was the message I got from soldiers when we found out that our flight was delayed.

I had been told at an MoD briefing that all military transport is delayed at some point and to factor in at least another 24 hours to any journey time.

Finally we boarded the old BOAC Tristar to Khandahar airbase.

The plane, massive compared to conventional aircraft, was filled from side to side with soldiers returning or travelling to the country for the first time.

The RAF only fly into Afghanistan at night because it is too dangerous to do it in the daylight when the insurgents will have a clean line of sight as to where the aircraft are landing.

As we taxied for take off the plane looked as though it may fall to pieces at any moment.

Everything on board the 40-year-old plane shook and bent as it revved its engines and slowly made its way to take off speed.

It felt as though the plane was struggling to take off under the load of so many people and their kit but it eventually reached cruising speed.

After a short while we were brought lunch by the polite and extremely accommodating RAF staff on board.

I sat, propping up my table with my knee eating sausage, leek and mash with gravy wondering what would be in store for me when we touched down in a pitch black cabin to arguably the most dangerous place on earth.

I later found out the exact runway we landed on in Khandahar had been hit by indirect fire IDF just days before and only a matter of metres away from the plane.

The insurgents occasionally sit in the foothills of the mountains lobbing mortars and rockets into the base.

There is no real accuracy to them but and they are really opportunist attacks.

I waited in a holding area for two hours before being ferried to a C130 Hercules which was sitting in total darkness on the runway.

Far away from the comfort of the Tristar this was an modified cargo plane with net seats.

The soldiers and I made our way in and jammed like sardines, took off again, this time to Camp Bastion, deep inside Helmand Province.

On arriving at the base I was met by the staff of Afghanistan's media operations team and taken to the journalist accommodation.

My tent, shared with other reporters from various papers was a welcome sight.

Air conditioning, power and above all else a bed to sleep in after an extremely long flight.

I was told to expect 45 degrees the next morning and that is exactly what I got.

• Our reporter Harry Miller will be filing daily bulletins on life from Helmand Province. Check back here for the latest.