It’s strange how time tricks you with its twists and eddies. Six months ago, booking a trip to Australia was an exciting but relatively distant dream. As the next couple of months progressed, the planning, choices and preparations seemed purposeful and enjoyable, yet the journey still seemed remote.
The addition of a countdown clock on my mobile phone seems to have taken place eons ago. I recall setting the target date and seeing it set 132 days to go. As those days have decreased, I have been aware of the approach of the journey but some how the reality still seemed somehow detached.
So we jump forward 130 days with packing in full flow, last minute checks made and all arrangements in place. Now despite the proximity of my departure, I’m so busy that I don’t actually have the time to reflect on the journey I was about to undertake.
Today, the day before our flight, I have just arrived at the local train station heading for London. Despite being repeatedly dive bombed by a Kamikaze pigeon with massive attitude, I found myself able to relax for the first time in days. When you consider I’m still the best part of 48 hours from my destination (Melbourne), I’m feeling remarkably chipper.