Soon I will embark on a great flying machine (A-330 I think) to far off, strange outlandish lands to explore fantastical landscapes, learn peculiar languages and have a ruddy good time while I'm at it.
I had packed 12 cases of nick-nackerations and doohickeries to help document and record my tales of travel but then my porters went missing! So in leiu of capturing 12 more sewer people and training them in the ways of the "Up-Worlders", (for which I have no time in any case) I have separated the proverbial wheat from the chaff and am now taking but one backpack, but it is ready to go! (Rather then all the things I will, no doubt, forget).
Approaching the end of my lease on life in this sleepy berg I feel regret, like drinking chocolate milk and realising it is sour only after finishing. Not regret for leaving this place, but for having to leave without getting to know a whole host of characters: eccentric, charming, brilliant and just old fasioned fun, that I have met in the last few months. A few in particular.
But! C'est la vie et ce comme ca, and how ever many other vague cliches you can apply to: Life Goes On!
And indeed it does, and I look foward to the coming days of my own life with great anticipation...
