It Started With an Australian.

“Admit it. It would make for a great story in ten years’ time. The night you spent in Prague on the Charles Bridge talking to that sort of cool, a little bit handsome Australian guy.” His words spun through my mind on the way back to airport. Nick and his wide grin and sparkling eyes, my friends' horrified reactions to the suggestion and insistence of me to stay, me pacifying them and declining the offer. Nick left. And I had no story for ten years’ time.

The anticipation built in the taxi on the way to the airport as talk of English Breakfast tea, hair products and other such home comforts circled me. The girls smiled and laughed whole heartedly at the idea of home, and I became aware of a shifting within me, an agitation building, starting low in my stomach like a deep hunger. All through security checks, passport controls and the endless isles of duty free my mind wandered, unable to focus on any one task at a time. The hunger pangs had continued to grow, feeding off one and other, infecting my bones right through to the marrow. It wasn’t until the need had grown so large, filling my entire body and expanding to the utmost corners of my soul that I could even pin point what the sensation was. Agitation, with life, with wasted time, with lost opportunities. What would I say in ten years time? What stories would I have to tell? None.

With this realisation I grew more and more fractious with every growing moment, life was on a timer and twenty years had already slipped by. At that point I couldn’t get home fast enough, couldn’t waste any more moments, any more potential adventures.

I need to start my life properly this time, no time for waiting, no need for anyone else.

With this new found lust for life I have planned my great escape from the mundanity of my current situation. Starting in Venice I plan to work my way down the east coast of Italy before heading over to Greece and hopping around the Sporades Islands.

Wish me luck - I fear I’ll need it.