Counting down the days

Friday, 23 October 2015


Today, it has become officially legit to utter these four little words: ten days to go. What a beautifully round and almost final number, plus tomorrow it gets to fall into single digits - and I can't quite believe it. How is it that time has flown so fast since I infamously hit the Payment button on the Emirates website with my eyes squeezed shut, back in late March? The weather has gone from bitter to boiling to bitter again, the clocks have gone forward and will go back, and I've moved cities entirely. So much change that make a sizable seven months feel like just yesterday, and here I am on the cusp of what can only be described as The Trip Of A Lifetime.

I can't discount the other big trips I have taken in the last couple of years, especially if you believe in things like fate and destiny. I don't think I do but it can't be ignored that basically, Canada took me to America which in turn brought me a boy and a move to Manchester and without him I would not be going on this trip. Perhaps the circumstances at the time weren't the greatest but now they are fantastic once more he has done nothing but encourage me to go on this trip and live my solo travel mini-dream. Yes, he will worry and I will miss him to death, but it's only a month. And reunions are incredible, aren't they?

Everything is pretty much done. All flights are booked, most hostel beds have my claim on them with just a few more to finish up, my kind of 'plan' has come together enough for me to e-mail an itinerary of sorts to my parents for them to feel a bit easier about the whole thing. It seems that no matter how old you are (28), how far away you live from home (220 miles) and how long you've lived away from home (9 years), your parents will always worry. Maybe a few years ago this would have been met with teenager-style eye-rolling and a whine that would put Kevin The Teenager to shame (kudos if you get this reference, by the way) but now I've matured a bit I totally get it. I've spent this morning creating the perfect spreadsheet for them to attempt to keep track of me and it's made me realise: wow, I've curated this all by myself. The trip, I mean, not just the spreadsheet. Other adulting achievements include purchasing adequate travel insurance and pledging sobriety for the thirty days.

I already know that this is all going to do more for me than just ticking off the boxes of seeing X, Y and Z country. I've spent so long at my current job living by the rules that define them with a desperately scavenged week off here and there, that I barely get time to refresh and think for myself before I'm back at 6:30am making mochas once more. I'm holding out for the complete full-body-full-mind reset and I can't wait for Thailand where I get to stop jumping ship (literally) every other day and just chill the fuck out. I also need to change my career - I know this, everybody knows this, my bosses know this - and I'm hoping that with the refresh and reset, will come a whole heap of inspiration and gung-ho attitude too. I'm also really looking forward to getting back to creativity. Reading and listening to new music on the passive side of things, and photographing and blogging on the aggressive front. Time to get back to the real me.

I get caught up in trying to plan what I can possible blog about, or what I can bring to the floor that hasn't already been done before. I've had to give myself a bit of a pep talk and remember to just go with the flow. Things happen, plans change, I might be having too good a day to want to bother writing about it, or I might have so miserable a day that all I want to do is moan for moaning's sake. The last thing I want to do is force what's not there and extinguish the blogging spark once again. If I fancy publishing a post full of pictures with not a single words, that will have to be fine. After all it all tells a story, somehow.

Excitement as a descriptive doesn't quite cut it and I'm at the point where because I can't believe it's mere millimetres away, I've put a wall up in front of it, determined to make it through the next week of work until Friday at 9pm when I can tear off my uniform with glee and do the happiest dance. I want to be fairly organised before this point so that I can dedicate my entire last weekend before the trip to my boyfriend Phil, with hiking planned and just general chilling out together time. I want to be packed mid-week, but I'm awaiting a new backpack and as I'm writing this I'm side-eyeing a Royal Mail 'you've missed your delivery...' card and I'm mustering up the energy to climb out of the blanket I'm wrapped up in (it's colder indoors than outside, alright?) to go and do something about it. Err, maybe later.

But first, coffee.

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