Today, the day before I leave, I decided it’d be a good idea to try and find my bag.
I bought a big backpacking backpack for going on the Eurotrip and I last used it when Ryan & I went to Paris in 2008. I thought it was in the hall, I was sure I’d seen it there recently. So, after lying in bed most of the day, wasting away the hours online, I decided to go look for it.
It wasn’t in the hall. Not where I thought I’d seen it, or anywhere else. Great.
I checked the kitchen, the other bedrooms (I knew it wasn’t in mine), I checked the livingroom. Nothing.
While weighing up some other options (I considered calling Jonny and asking to borrow his backpack — something which, it later turned out would have been a pointless endeavour, due to the fact that he didn’t have a backpack for Europe, he just had a normal suitcase), I checked the loft. Thankfully, just inside the hatch, there it was.
It’s now, 3:25am. In 24 hours, I will be sat in the airport. I’m not packed. At this moment in time, I’m filling Paula’s mp3 player with music for the journey.