Day 1 - Bristol to Heathrow

Hindsight this day wasn’t holidayey enough to be included, but sod it, I wanna remember it. 

Pre departure stats 

• Number of pages of notes, guides and itineraries intricately doodled and curated: 20 
• Number of saved places who’s reviews I carefully scoured for making sure they don’t also sell ‘western breakfasts and burgers’ reasons; at least 150
• Number of hours spent doing ‘research’  in the last 3 months- Squillions. 
• Number of times I predict I’ll look at any of that after today: Thrice. 

Up at 5 to acclimatise to the sun

Breakfast of kings (if the king bought own-brand Nutella). Out-of-office on, Home Screen changed to holiday apps and usefulness. Ooh I am with it. 

And I’m off

Must’ve said ‘passport, keys, money, check the list, check windows and doors, one more little scout about’ to myself about 20 times. On road, pleased with myself. 

Aaaaaand, forgot my freshly squash-ladened water bottle, felt silly walking back up the street. We move. 

Ding Ding I’m a train driver. 

Lovely bus to Gatwick. Gentle potter for a few hours. Did some smashing colouring-in. My brain is in transition to holiday mode, it’s had a stern word with itself vis a vis same. Boy and Brig incoming. I didn’t have a placard. 

Horley delight 

Rode in a Tesla for the first time, chap very kindly scared the living shit out of me by showing us how fast it could go. You’re supposed to try things once. Feeling like you’re going to die on a slip road in Gatwick: done. 

Dinner was alright, all knackered and we were in a Wetherspoon after all.