At three 'o clock tomorrow morning I will start my journey to mainland Europe.
I already feel as though I'm very far away from home down here in Portishead, or 'Posset' as it is affectionately referred to as by the locals. There is the tang of salt water blown over by wind which takes you back to English holidays as a child. There are strange views of waters illuminated by distant lights which could be of anywhere in the world.
However, it is the half-packed rucksack which already weighs roughly the same as me and the endless lists of things to remember which insist most forcefully that I am not quite there yet. That first day of holiday feeling, stood at the edge of a pool and trying to muster the courage to jump in. You know the water will be lovely, but lapping at your feet it looks cold and foreboding.
Next post from the deep end.