I'm off then. Off to pick up my Euros and traveller's cheques, off to finish packing my huge, new and curiously tubular backpack, and off to make Allie a late night snack, as she only gets in from Edinburgh tonight at about a quarter to ten.
We catch the 4.48am train from St. Alban's tomorrow morning, and our plane is due to soar out of Luton at 7am.
We're off to Madrid, then Cordoba, then Granada.
That's the first week's plan, anyway.
The plan for the second week is that there is no plan.
If anyone wants to contact me, then I'm afraid you're just going to have to hold it for two weeks.
I make no apologies.
Anyway, wish me sun, sea, sand, san miguel, and all the other things I want that don't necessarily begin with 's' and so don't get to be mentioned here.
Take good care of yourselves.
I won't be long.
Walking To Work Down Traveller's Lane
I have been a waiter, a cashier, a shelf-stacker, a teacher, a tutor, a surveyor’s assistant, a salesman, a kitchen porter, a barman, a disc jockey and an engineer.
I have been a student, a sailor, a TV presenter, a radio producer, an actor, a DJ and a drill instructor.
I have been a pilot, I have been drunk, (but never both at once) I have written a novel and I have read many.
I have been a lover, a loner, a son and a brother.
I have loved, lived, sung, drunk, eaten, and my face has been warmed by a hundred setting suns.
For all of the time I was all of these things, I have always been only two.
Myself, and a traveller.
I’m off to be myself for a while.
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