Travelling. Got a need for the nomadic life at the moment. Not even a craving to head to international lands and speak a new language, but something as simple as packing a weekends worth of clothes, £20 and going somewhere outside the M25, the ring of doom seperating me from the rolling hills of the UK.
Brighton, Oxford, Cambridge, Bristol…All places I think I could get my brain back if I went there looking for it. All places where true freinds reside and let the good times roll, even if it is snowing outside and your life is a mess. Roll on summer, hedonistic weeks of non-stop partying, in the company of good people, good drink, good food and neverending memories.
Pictures. So many pictures to take. Pictures so simple yet so personal it will never be the same. Festivals, mud, sunburn, wellingtons, tinnitus. Dancing next to a stranger, hugging them next year, sharing a cider with them the next…and what of this summer, and those faces from years ago?
End of an era 6 weeks and counting, beginning of a new one, who knows? I’m quite happy to sit in the middle of the two for a while, on standby, waiting for a reason for someone to miss their flight and for me to take their place in the rat race called London. But until then, I’ll have my backpack, ukelele, £20 and smiles.
Just another TravelPUNK.com weblog