Day (-1) - Saturday - DON'T PANIC!

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Got up early at the flat, and went over to my Mum's where I'd left my pack. Nipped next door to borrow their scales - in a last minute fit of paranoia, figured it might be an idea to weigh my bag . . . anyway, put the bag on the scales - weight, 60kg, my allowance 23kg. Cue cursing and sheer panic from me, and my mum just saying calmly "Stop swearing. Let's look through it again"
So I unload the pack it took me over an hour to pack, throw half my clothes and lots of toiletries out, and re-weigh it. 58kg.
The air is once again blue, my blood pressure's through the roof and there's a lous buzzing in my ears
Mum suggests "Calm down and stop swearing. Check your allowance with Flight Centre. Maybe you got it wrong?"
"Hello Flight Centre, Rob speaking?"
"Hi, I'm flying to India on a round the world ticket, what's the baggage allowance?"
"23 kilos"
"Oh crap. I've just weighed my pack, and it's 58."
"Well, I've done a trip like that, and trust me, if it's more than 23 kilos it's too heavy to carry. I'd repack it"
"O . . . K . . . thanks"
So I swear A LOT more and, just to be pedantic, re-weigh the pack. Maybe a small child I hadn't seen in there has crawled out while I'm not looking . . . nope, 58kg . . .
. . . hang on. The top reading on the scales is Stones and Pounds (non brits - just don't ask) so one would assume the bottom one was kilos, no? OK, so assumption is the mother of all f*ck ups. The bottom reading is pounds. My "58kg" pack weighs less than 20kg.

So, one drive to the Manchester Coach station later (with a stop where I can't find my tickets, actually open my eyes, look again and find them) I'm sat on the coach to London. Next to me is the lovely Sara, a girl who's just started temping in my office before I left, and who foolishly told me she was going to London this weekend. She's got the un-envious task of looking after tyhe gibbering wreck that is my nerves for the next few hours. Actually I'm not too bad now. Because I've only left my family at the station I'm surprisingly serene and un-tearful (anyone who knows me will be amazed), and the journey goes very well. As well as being extremely good looking, Sara's a good laugh and has been travelling a lot before, so we talk all the way down about her past and future plans, and what I'll be doing for the next year. The time flies.

We arrive safe and sound and are met by my friend the lovely Laura - complete with new boyfriend, Rob! (damn, no going-away sex then! ONLY JOKING LAURA! 😊 We split from Rob at the tube station and headed to Laura's. I had a great last night in England, nice and chilled, just watched "Inside Man" on DVD and had a Domino's with a few Old Peculier beers . . . mmm real beer . . . not going to get THAT for a while . . . (sob sob)

Well, I SAY I had a good last night - it was marred only a touch by the very nasty messages and a dozen missed calls from The Psycho Ex From Hell. I'm not joking, if I wasn't leaving the country we're now well into Restraining Order territory - but that's another story!

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