Boxes II

Dad woke me up early so I could see his latest purchase.

A new shed.

At the bottom of the garden.






Oh well.

Perhaps I could sneak them into their garage, throw out all my sister's old stuff. I doubt it.

On the up side, they agreed to cat sit for a few months.

Boxes

What if I never unpack?

It's sixteen weeks till I leave, if I go in time for my birthday.

I could leave it all in boxes, leave it all packed in the middle of the floor. Would be faster. Would be ready to move it again.

But move it where?

Cunning plan: what if I bought my parents a shed, for the bottom of my garden, and then used it to store all my things for a year?

Commit

Back in London for one night, D points out that I got the money on the first day of my holidays.

He suggests something: resign first thing on the first day back, and buy a ticket to Hawaii right away.

I need to go hug my knees alone in the toilet.

It's a good idea. Make it hard for me to back away or be fearful. Commit.

Memories of Paradise

Up in Newcastle, I ask S and D where they would go, if they could go back to anywhere they'd loved being?

Their answers surprise me.

D says she'd go to the Old Dragon's Gate, a difficult spot to find, where the Great Wall of China meets the sea. It's one of the few original patches of wall, unrestored, and you need to be able to speak Chinese to find it.

S says she'd drive north to Iceland. Apparently, you can do this from the UK. There are just enough small island ferries between Scotland, the Orkneys, the Faroes, the Hebrides and Iceland, for you to make it.

I've never heard of any journeys so original. They fired me up to ask more and more people.

Now I know how to make up my itinerary. Fuck the guidebooks. I don't need them. My itinerary will be made up of people, and their memories.

Moving Day

It cost me £300 and four hours to move my stuff - books, dishes, music, letters, junk - to my flat.

There's nowhere to stand here for boxes. Six feet high boxes, every room.

I'd been really excited to get my things back, after a year, but now: where will it all go?

£mine

I sold it. The money's mine. £54 thousand.

I can leave whenever I want.

I'm not tied

Talking to S after the party, I'm trying to explain why I probably shouldn't travel till 2006. Need time to plan. Need to capture that promotion at work. Need to tie up loose ends/people.

And so on.

Only while I'm saying it, it changes.

It changes into:
"There's never going to be a better moment for me to go than now. I'm not tied to any people, any job, or any place. If I wait, then those ties will catch up with me, because that's what life is like. So I need to go, and I need to go now."

I totally surprised myself. And it's utterly what I want to do.

Big Party

I'm exchanging contracts on the house I'm selling, today. The house I'm selling so I can spunk all the money on travel.

This requires a big party, so I can persuade myself it's real.

I've exchanged contracts before. I know it's still likely to go wrong. It's 14 months since I started dreaming of this journey.

Doesn't matter, though. All anyone is going to talk about to me tonight at the party is Hawaii.

I shall smile enigmatically. Remind them it's not sold yet.

Hmm. Unsure.