I'm better at hello

Sitting in the Hilton Airport Hotel, having just checked in to our morning flight, and organised a taxi to the Terminal. The afternoon sun is very gentle. I've just been crying in our hotel room, which is fine because everything has been very intense.

Besides, these tears were nothing compared to the full body sobbing I did in Sydney's airport hotel on the way here. I was really upset then. I was crying because 1. I knew the trip would change me and I was scared of that, plus 2. I couldn't believe that I'd actually made it to a trip after so many months of denial and numbness. I honestly didn't believe it was going to happen. Surely something would prevent it, some drama, some tribulation.

Anyway, today was a sweet day. I'm getting sick and have a sensitive throat and a few sniffles, so I woke up feeling a little bit spacey. We went to Dolci for breakfast, and I actually ordered eggs instead of just a "pain au chocolate" (that's French for chocolate coated pain, it's very existential). We went home and had a nap for a while before cramming our bags full of the crap we've been lugging around for a month, then going for one last tube ride to Victoria Station for a beer and some people watching. With the industrial action disrupting the train network, there were plenty of people crowding about to watch.

Home after a too-strong coffee in Kensington... wait, did I say "Home"? I mean back to the Prime London to pick up our luggage, and get an Uber to Heathrow. Today was soft transit.

I'm sad to be going, but I have to remember that tomorrow's taxi, flight, train ride, and taxi home are going to be adventures in themselves.

I feel very bonded to Stuart by this whole experience, and when it comes to the idea of coming back, I wouldn't want to come back on my own.

Life is sweet.Read more