Next Stop; Thailand
I feel so sick; this is it, very nearly time to fly. I was occasionally excited and occasionally nervous but for the most part it wasn’t really happening so I didn’t mind too much. The only time it was really real was when I said goodbye to my big brother and spent twenty minutes snuffling snotty mascara into his shoulder to the discomfort of everyone else present. Now there are forty-eight stag beetles in my stomach. I can’t place exactly what the anxiety is aimed at but I definitely shouldn’t watch anything even vaguely sad or listen to any mopey music. Time seems to be speeding up inexorably and just keeps relentlessly flying by; there’s still so much I wanted to do. I had a fantastic last weekend though; for a few glorious nights the house was a student house and the lounge closely resembled a drunken battlefield at 8am on Sunday morning when bodies were littering every spare patch of floor. I couldn’t have asked for a better turnout, thanks to everyone that came and dressed up, international stereotypes in The Hobbit pub was definitely the way to go! No prizes for guessing the country I chose.
In other news my bag is packed, well almost. Apparently it is big enough; I just needed someone else to pack it for me because I am apparently inept at such things. My bestie Karen did a superb job of fitting a garage into a car and Finlay decided to take a victory leap onto the bed at the exact second I went to photograph her moment of triumph. I think the flying dog makes that photo. The bag actually looks enormous on Karen but then that is at least partially because she’s a pixie. I’ve still got far too much to do that hasn’t been done but I’m just hoping it all works out at this point. The cycling thing didn’t get much further than the original ride unfortunately as lowering my backside onto the saddle for the following few days revealed a perfect saddle-sized bruise imprint. As such I never got far without having to stop; like walking on a blister. I’m assuming that much like breaking in your flip-flop toes every spring, when you first get on a bike in a decade you need to take some time breaking in an unaccustomed posterior. Give me a month and I’ll have cycle-perfected buns of rhino-horn. I’ll hold the pictures though!
Two sleeps! Argh! I need a pep-talk.