Actually I’m not yet. I’m unscrupulously stealing time from work to put up one last post before I go off on my travels. I’m excited about this trip, but as is natural to my untrusting nature, I’m troubled by numerous worries about travelling. Basically I don’t trust public transport: I don’t trust the company who arranged my tickets to have done their job; I don’t trust the British railways to get me to the airport on time, and I don’t trust the airline actually to supply the flight I’ve paid for. That doesn’t even begin to address my feelings about border guards and passport control, and I’m not even leaving Europe. Perhaps this explains why I so rarely venture beyond the sceptred coasts of Albion. Perhaps because I worry about things like this, journeys abroad always seem to go quite smoothly; but that doesn’t mean I won’t be very relieved when we actually leave the ground tomorrow, and even more so when I’m under the protective collective wing of my hosts.

If all goes well, I should be in London this evening, ready to get myself over to Gatwick for my flight in the morning.  The whole thing is arranged to the best of my ability, but living in this country you learn to be wary of timetables and schedules. However, the die, as they say, is cast, and the less waiting and anticipating I have to do the better; it was clearly a stroke of genius to arrange to stay the night with a friend who ought to take my mind off the trepidation.

It’s possible that my next post here will be from the furthest point from home that I’ve ever visited, if I have the time or the inclination to waste either on the internet. If not, I’ll have a lot of material by the time I come to update again.