You're still here?

The dreaded question, asked every time I go to work (or anywhere at all really) has come to grate on my last nerve. Politely, as I have a hundred times before, I explain that I leave the 29th. Although I am the last person to expect anyone to remember every detail of my life (as I can never remember any detail of theirs), I have come to dread this question. It acts as a constant reminder that I am in fact...still here. However, hope remains. I get to smile and answer: "Two weeks now".

I contemplate the date two weeks from today with a mixture of excitement, anxiety, and relief. I've just started packing, which mainly involved ironing a colossal pile of shirts and folding them up to sit by my suitcase, and laboriously hauling in a worrying number of shoes.

I am almost through with the daunting experience of reading through the entirety of my guidebook on Great Britain (which of course includes England, Scotland, Wales, and North Ireland...a virtual, page turning, tour de Empire). The guidebook has perhaps caused more trouble than good as I now have a burning desire to go to every obscure little hamlet in the United Kingdom. For instance: yes, of course I want to visit Tintern Abbey ("Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, That on a wild secluded scene impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect the landscape with the quiet of the sky") and perhaps even compose some lines a few miles above it. And as long as we're on the topic of literature, obviously I want to go to the castle and see the room where Macbeth was "murdered". And why not see the church where the Magna Carta was written? Walk alongside Hadrian's wall? Visit Anne Boleyn's childhood home? Find the Forest of Dean for the simple reason that Harry Potter camped there in the Deathly Hallows? These are all important places...and in my opinion are not to be overlooked. Hmmm. Which town do the Weasley's live in again? And can I run around with my wand in it and complain of Wrackspurts buzzing about my head?

AND...what about Ireland????? Perhaps it was the Irish Festival on Saturday...or maybe it was the two hours of Flogging Molly I listened to on the way back, but I have had an unfortunate (but strong) desire to go back to Ireland. Anyways, is there anything stopping me from going on a weekend excursion to Galway? I'm thinking I need to get back to a place where people say "cheers" as a way of greeting or thank you, and crack usually doesn't involve the use of drugs, and where bands are paid in the pub with pints, and people make shamrocks in the foam of their Guinness. It's been too long. Is there such a thing as too much traveling?

Anyways, tomorrow marks the big two week countdown. If you haven't already marked up your calendars...I suggest you do so. Because soon I'll be drinking Pimm's and punting about Oxford.

"Tell me one last thing," said Harry. "Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?"
"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"