Sunday, 26 February 2012
So, we were going through all this stuff from the Pliocene era, and we came across a pair of Australian flip-flops, identical to the ones in the photo. I remembered they had been posted to me by Lucie several years ago. I must have shoved them at the back of the wardbrobe, thinking that in the wet wilds of Scotland, and not being the type to holiday on beaches, that they might not be useful for some time. Well, that time has come!
It's now Sunday evening and I'm in my favourite habitat (my bedroom) and attitude (supine with one leg crossing the other and upper foot tapping to the electro beat). Surveying my pared down quarters, I feel that anything is possible, like riding a bicycle across Australia. The wardrobe and drawers are empty and I've taken down the cork noticeboards and all the teenagerish paraphernia from the walls. No, not posters of hot chicks; cartoons, postcards and dead beetles. I left the maps, including the Australian one, which Glen can study if he's feeling homesick when he realises he hasn't seen the sun in eleven weeks and he's started growing webbed feet.
I've been exhausted this weekend. Nothing much to do with hefting boxes, more mental fatigue borne of stressing over this trip. It might also be the anguish associated with another birthday passing by. I turned 46 on Saturday. Only three full days to go now and it still doesn't seem real. I'll be fine once I'm over there and pedalling away.