Chris Robertson brought it to my attention the other day that it was this time last year that I was preparing my applications for the Peace Fellowship. It only seems like yesterday that I was hurriedly trying to piece together an essay and get my referees to throw something together at the last minute. It's amazing to me to think that this time last year doing my Masters was merely a pipe dream which looked like it was going to cost me an arm, leg and then some.
The last few months have flown by in a blur. I have been to Africa, said goodbye to family at both ends of the county and have sold an endless number of items in a bid to thin my life down and fit it into two bags. For anyone who knows me, or has been to my house, you will know that this was a particularly gruelling task. You see, I am a hoarder from way back. I have newspapers from the last millennium and certificates from kindergarten. I am however, looking at this period in my life as cleansing. Albeit it feels more like a colonic than a yogic detox.
For anyone who is in Wellington and would like to come and wave at the plane as we depart these fair(ly windy) shores, we will be leaving at 6.30pm on Wednesday 26 August 2009.
I have to apologise in advance for any of the following events which may occur at the airport:
a) my crying hysterically at the thought of boarding the plane;
b) my babbling on without taking a breath, in an effort to distract myself from the fact I am about to board a plane; or
c) my smiling like a Cheshire cat (see photo below for an example of what this might look like) having taken a strong sedative in an effort to trick myself into not thinking that I am going on a plane.
As you may have picked up, I don't fly very well. In fact, poor Flo had his work cut out for him the last time when went to Auckland when I decided that I no longer wished to be on the plane, ignoring the fact that we had just left the ground. It could be an extra long flight for the poor boy unless he puts something strong in my tea or knocks me over the head once we board. I get the distinct impression that over the next three weeks Flo will be spending his nights schooling himself on the inner workings of every aircraft flying between here and Munich, so as to answer all of my trying questions and keep me from scaring the small children on the plane. At this rate by the time we get to Europe Flo will be sitting his commercial pilots exam before he sits his osteo one.
Needless to say, I am excited about what lies ahead of me and cannot wait to get off the plane (for more reasons than one) in Munich on 28 August.
Europe here I come...
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