So I'm off today. I have such jitters its untrue. I'm sure that once I actually leave, then I'll be fine, but the thought of spending 6hrs in Heathrow on my own just getting nervous is killing me. See, I'm panicking at the thought of panicking. I am such a loser. Gone is my cool, calm exterior. Now I just want someone to hold my hand!
Man, my bag is so heavy. I am currently consoling myself with the thought that a lot of the stuff will be posted home from Kathmandu after my trek is done. Somehow I don't think that longjohns are so useful on the beaches of Thailand. My other worry is that I am going to be so unfit for my trek to Everest Base Camp. Then again, Cara was reassuring me last night, saying that I would be dying for the first few days, and then it would be grand. She also told me to take a picture of myself in a bikini before I went, and then after, to see whether I am going to be truly emaciated at the end of it. Certainly a possibility.
Of course I didn't sleep particularly well, so I'm really tired this morning. I am going to be shattered by the time I actually arrive. Blurgh. But yes, of course its going to be so worth it. My poor wee mammy is pretty sad though. But I'm going to meet her in four months, and even then, I lived in the US for eight months whilst I was studying there, so its not like I haven't been away for so long before.
I don't think I'll be posting her for a couple of weeks, most likely at the end of my trek. Then I hope you are all going to come flooding back to hear my stories of Maoists, blisters and tea-houses.