I'm leaving tomorrow.

Yesterday I was quite pleased to find I could travel by train to Heathrow airport, terminal one, for less than GBP30. Today I'm less pleased to find I'm actually leaving from terminal four...and the train costs around GBP60. The 75 mile journey is actually cheaper in a taxi.

Yesterday I thought I'd be spending six hours on a plane. Today I learn I'll have six hours of company on the plane. Quite honestly I'd perfer to plug in to podcasts of industrial techno and ranty film reviews. But part of being nice is being outwardly grateful for unwanted acts of kindness.

Last night I made a mental list of all the things to pack. Today I engaged in three solid hours of advanced three dimensional tesselational - the activity known as 'trying to make everything fit in a suitcase that's a bit too small'.

Last night I had the most impossibly steamy late-night goodbye-sex with an old friend. Today I'm just a bit sore - and could do with more sleep.

But tomorrow...I'm leaving. On a jet plane. To spend probably-a-year but certainly-three-months teaching English to Bedouins.

Accommodation, food, TV and internet laid on. And it's no great trial to be without alcohol, pork products, or to be honest manlove. Saving as much as possible tax-free salary to...well, invest in something sensible later. That's the general vague plan. Inshallah.

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