Holy shit, in two hours from now I’m going to be on a train to London, followed swiftly by a tube to Heathrow, a flight to Bangkok, a quick overnight stay and finally a flight to Surat Thani. For a year at least. What the fuck am I doing? As Si pointed out yesterday I’m probably going to have a face-slapping Home Alone-style “Aaaaaaaaaaaargh!” moment as soon as the plane leaves the tarmac.
Wait a minute though, it was just a few weeks back I was chiding Sarah the ex for similar apprehensions surrounding her departure to Berlin. She was doing almost exactly the same thing (run away to a foreign country where you don’t speak the language in order to teach for a year or so) and she’s survived admirably so far. So it can’t be all that bad, right?
All I really have left to do is find a tenant for my flat (before I go broke), sort out the travel insurance (before I get hospitalised) and get a gin and tonic (before my brain actually notices what I’m doing). Essentially everything is sorted.
Still, it feels a hell of a lot more momentous than that. Feels like I’ve still got everything to do and no idea where I’m going. Panic, panic, panic! Why don’t I have an A-Team to drug my milk?
Oh well, too late to do anything about it. Going to call a cab, play some guitar and try to relax. Will post updates when I get to bangkok, or en route if possible.
See y’all in Thailand…