Today I’m travelling to Berlin. I’ve travelled abroad loads of times before but it never gets any less exciting and I never seem to avoid letting work get on top of me right up to the last minute. Well it pays for the travelling, you see. But I always end up staying up until stupid hours the night before the trip to ensure that the people of the world I leave behind know what to do when the cat needs feeding or the pipes (or the cat) leak or I fail to come home (or the cat fails to come home).
I’ve got everything that needs packing put aside ready in neat little categorised piles on the bed. My travel checklist has been checked, re-checked, ticked, re-ticked and tattooed my arse for safe keeping. I’ve sent goodbye messages to everyone I know who has already had the good fortune to have left Chippenham behind. And I’ve shaken with gleeful anticipation.
So all I have to do now is stuff those neat little piles haphazardly into my bag, go and collect my travel currency (rapidly failing Euros . . . god bless the ever deepening Euro Zone Crisis and the ever improving exchange rate) from the Royal Mail sorting office because I was out when they called, and do three hours of fare-thee-well foot health care with my adoring customers.
Berlin here we come!