Feeling: FLIGHTY

Feeling: FLIGHTY

Cripes – I just looked at my wall planner and realised I take off (literally) in a mere two point five weeks. 

Outrageous! Ridiculous! Ludicrous! But oh, so exciting. 

Today I set up a little exercise book detailing, well details I guess, of the forthcoming trip. While the India/Nepal episodes were titled “Solo Sojourn”, I’m thinking this one shall be christened EEE – Exploring Europe Escapades. Ideal! 

So I’ve chumped up to do a Contiki tour myself – ironic much? – from April 2 until the 24th, which roams about 13 countries (the staples of France, Germany, Italy, the Netherlands, Austria, as well as Slovenia – for some reason I am totally pumped for Ljublijana – Poland, Switzerland, Vatican City, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Belgium and Hungary. Of course I shall spend a fair bit of time busting about London, where I plan to finish the entire first version of my book – tentatively titled Seedless Green Grapes – as I flock about the sights. 

Then I’ve made a list of must-do’s to tick off: Harry Potter set (number one of course), a flit to Spain to see my cousin Sarah, a weekender to Ireland – Dublin come at me – and for Deb, a circle on The London Eye. Then to old Rotterdam to don clogs and work on my Dutch with the fam, a jaunt to Germany to see good pals Mel and Yarky, then – fist pump STA travel for their stellar    deals – a week or so in Dubai on return (I really really want to ride a camel). And of course in each location. No doubt I will pull on my New Balance runs and trot about for hours just seeing the sights, smelling scents and getting lost in foreign fields (well, streets). 

Blog posts shall go galore. I hope you’re ready. 

I need this. I need to get the fuck out for a wee while to give me the get go and sanity to come back, work wonders to save save save and the motivation required to sort my headspace out. Currently I’m floundering; I wouldn’t say I’m not enjoying life but I’m finding it a severe struggle. Tarakihiing, snappering, Hapukaing and John Dorying from the moment I wake until when I sink off to slumber. And often in my dreams as well. 

Yes. Going away will give me the ability to throw off this metaphorical fishing net that’s had me in a tied up tangle for almost six months. And what better place to not just explore the surroundings, but also oneself, than Europe? 

No return home flight has been booked, but I’m thinking by June 1, to quote old Arny, I’ll be back. I have a lot of shit to get on to – apologies, but the majority of such shall be disclosed in my book rather than on this platform – and nearing the strike of the quarter century I can’t put it off much longer. (Plus I don’t have the dollars required to gallivant around much longer than May). 

The other day I rocked a shift at Onyx again (for those not in the know, the restaurant slash cafe slash bar I have worked on and off at since I was 16) and a man came in and double took. “You’re back again?!” He asked disbelieving. (I was tempted to respond with a, “Nah mate,  just fannying about in an apron behind the counter for a laugh” but managed to suppress the smartarse). I was embarrassed, I’ll admit it. A tad ashamed to be back yet again. I sort of nodded my head and moved the subject along. 

But now I think, screw it. Mate I’m working my arse off to travel the world. That shift on Tuesday will cover my train ticket to Munich. Thursday’s will get me to Spain. And my lunchtime covering tomorrow will pay for my entrance fee into HP World (I bet he can’t claim he’ll be waltzing about a makeshift Diagon Alley on a broomstick sipping butter beer come April). I have no need to be embarrassed; I’m doing what I have to to enable myself to do what I want. This job I can flit in and out of willy nilly – who else can say that about their nine-to-five office occupation?

I’ve lost UltraPop quite a lot.but I have a feeling I’ll find her lurking about the Buckingham Palace gates. 

(Or else in a good old cafe in Amsterdam). 

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