I know that this is not an answer and I am SO SORRY! In my defense, you’ve gotten some excellent advice here, so I am just going to tell a wee story. I hope this is ok? :-)
Eons ago, the summer I turned 16, Da gifted ma and my Mama a two-week long adventure to England for my birthday. We had a freaking BLAST. :-)
Friends, I fell in love with British cheese. I ate a powerful lot of strong mature cheddar, Caerphilly, Cheshire, Stilton, red Leicester, etc. etc. on the trip.
Before we left for home I snagged a huge wedge of beautiful Cheshire, one of my faves (now as then). We were “backpacking around,” so I packed the cheese in my twilled fabric backpack and checked it as luggage.
All was fine until Mama and I were standing at the baggage carousel, waiting for our bags. Hers came, all fine, no worries. Now mine (it was bright red, so easy to clock) came tumbling down the chute and onto the sliding metal plates of the conveyor belt. And bloody heck, but it had been ripped wide open in transit!
As I helplessly watched, my enormous block of beautiful Cheshire cheese was thrown wide of the rip in the bag and landed on the metal plates.
It had softened slightly en route.
Before my horrified eyes, a corner of the plastic wrap got sucked in between the metal plates, dragging a corner of the cheese with it… and then more of the cheese, until all of it was being sucked into the conveyor plates and extruded further along like wide cheesy noodly ribbons of sadness.
I could smell it from where I stood. I was aghast.
A kindly priest (it was an odd day) in the crowd leaped onto the verge of the carousel and hauled my wounded backpack off before more of my belongings could be destroyed… but of course he could not save my cheese.
I live in London now and am able to indulge in good Cheshire cheese on the regular, but I will never forget that day.
Happy travels - and good luck with your cheese!