Perpetual Nomad

Today, I have packed.

I am the eternal traveller. I move with the seasons, never staying in one place for more than three months at a time. Britain is brilliant, and I have experienced more of it than ever before this summer - roaming from Land's End to Scotland with many stops in between - my city visits of the past few months sound like I plucked them straight out of the Sunday Times Good University Guide: Bristol, Bath, Oxford, Warwick, Nottingham and beyond. I've been to three of the four capitals of the UK, to the beach, on a plane, in a tent, on a boat, to see buildings, to see bridges, to see sights, to see shops. Life is dandy.

It's been wonderful, it really has and I've been able to spend time with many friends along the way. But juggling so many different activities, spending days with all these distinct groups and individuals, means I've barely had time to pause for a moment; too tired to think. On the hours in which I've had a second to spare I inenvitably waste it, spaced out on the computer or lying in the sun, which is not always a bad thing, I suppose, but sometimes I wish I had a bit more time to focus, you know? Honestly, what will become of me?

I feel a little like I'm losing touch with reality, I've got a heavy heart and an anxious mind. Saturday is the last day of my current occupation. Monday, I start anew in a fresh house in a familiar city. That's one day to gather together my drifting thoughts, sift through scattered belongings and haphazardly stuff them into the trusty transporter to start yet another trip along one of the many motorways of this country. One day to reflect on the season past; one day to ponder the ones to come; one day to worry about the next chapter of my life as it stands.

I don't think one day is enough.

On the jukebox: Nelly Furtado ~ All Good Things - I'm like a bird.