Our flight was at 10:30 am Monday 14th October. Our buddy Dan (he’s pure gold) was coming over at around 6 am to collect us and deliver us to our metal flying escape tube.
The old us would have packed our bags on Thursday, and finalised packing our remaining belongings and stored them downstairs by Saturday lunch time.
The new us had our first run of packing our bags on Sunday night (sort of during our last going away dinner, sorry everyone) and we were up until almost 3 am Monday morning packing and storing our boxes under the house. We had way too much stuff to fit in our packs, so we spent hours culling things (like thermals and things that we specifically bought for the trip). It was occurring to us that we really should have done this earlier. Panic was starting to settle in.
At around 3am we called it quits, and went to bed for 2 hours. We got up at 5, finished off trying to stuff everything into our bags, and did the paperwork to sell our car (a guy was coming to maybe buy it that day). We should have done this earlier too, as we were missing some paperwork. Oh well, sort it out when we get to London we said!
Dan patiently watched us run around stressed and tired for a while. Then he delivered us to the airport, we shared a moment, and then we blasted off.
Panic and apprehension was increasing slightly.
What the hell are we doing??
Oh that’s right, living!
