It's nearly a just a month to go before I leave the North-West Coast after four years and head to Paris. Now that it's got to the stage that I can't do anything about going (and why would I?) it's all feeling rather real. Couple that with the moment a few days ago of "wow, I'm 26, shouldn't I be doing something with my life" and I'm of the mindset that this trip can't come soon enough.
In 36 days I shall be curled up as best I can be on a flight to Paris - the first leg of 'the big trip', which has been in the works, at least mentally, for a long time. Just how long? Well, when I was a little Pegs I wanted to be a traveller. A slightly older Pegs realised that particular occupation would require funding. Somehow journalism entered the picture. A wiser Pegs might have chosen a secondary career option that yielded a bit more money (doctor, movie star, drug dealer), but then I never have been good with numbers.
Anyway here I am: uni degree done, resume boosted, bank balance acceptable and off we go.
This trip may be life changing, it may not be. I could fall in love and never come home. I might be back for the AFL Grand Final. I don't really have a 'goal' for this trip. However, it willl be a fun and challenging adventure and at the end of the day, something to write home about.
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