Five sunsets, four different countries, a million hours spent on Flexibus and a sudden 5 am panic about where the fuck I put my oyster card later and I find myself back in London. With multiple bags of crap and a mind so fuzzy I couldn’t remember my way home, I stumbled off the bus after a twelve hour journey from Holland to be greeted by a beautiful London in the midst of Easter celebrations.
After a night out in Kilburn the traveller’s fug has shifted, with the help of tequila and live music, from weepy exhaustion to a twitchy itchy feet syndrome- an old friend of all who return home after an expedition. Sitting in bed, surrounded by all the treasures I’ve found, I eat my 50p loaf of bread whilst staring lazily at my back pack and wonder whether to unpack or would it be less effort to just keep travelling.
Do I really need to stop already?