Preparing to travel is stressful, I’ve discovered. Maybe not if you’re already well-travelled, already have the fine art of packing a bag or two down, but I’m not and I don’t. I’ve already moved house once, and in a couple of weeks I have to move again. This around things like working overtime, driving lessons, and of course taking my two remaining rats over to Ireland (sad to see them go, but they’ve an amazing home lined up). Despite clearing out probably half of my stuff and storing another quarter, I still have a lot to go through. I need to be ruthless. That jacket I can only wear on cool but cloudless days because the rain will ruin the velvet? Looks great but it has to go. And do I really need two dressing gowns? (I don’t have a firm answer for this one – it might be yes).
The good thing is, I don’t miss my old flat at all. There’ll be nostalgia there for it, for the weird corner of Bristol that I made my own, but I’m glad to be out. I’ll be even more glad when the prep stage is over and I’m on that long haul flight to the other side of the world. Because then it’ll be done. No going back.
Strangely, all this change is keeping me creative. I’ve got two little stories on the go and another one brewing in the back of my head. This is why it’s good to shake things up a little. Otherwise I fall into bad habits. Right now, I barely have time for bad habits. My empty hours are now filled with planning and clearing and learning. I’ve become that person who can’t make social plans until they’ve checked their diary. It’s stressful but I don’t hate it, in a weird way I actually kind of like it. I think that’s because I know this will be worth it. And then, for a little while at least, I’ll have all the time in the world and no plans whatsoever. I can’t wait.