We're here...

After a frantic few days of last minute preparations, a rather long and uncomfortable journey, and a few hundred feet of red tape. we've finally ended up in Bangkok, expat-cat and all. All rather frazzled. More to follow...

Getting cracking with the packing

T-minus 10 days until we fly, and we still have a flat full of stuff. As my weekdays are occupied until just before we leave with the assembly of yet another riveting piece of 'factual' television, that leaves the precious weekends to cram as much of my life as possible into the luggage allowance, and store anything else that I can't bring myself to throw away.

It's an interesting and slightly surreal exercise that brings the reality of what we're doing into sharp focus. Packing away my warm clothes into storage boxes feels strange - will I really not be needing them at all for the foreseeable future? It comes as a mild shock to realise quite how many clothes I have that I just don't wear at all. I'd packed a whole load of them before it dawned on me that if I don't wear them now, I'm unlikely to want to in a few years time when they're even less fashionable - so out of the storage box and into the charity bag they go.

All those cables and gadgets and things that I've stashed away in case I needed them at some point? I don't need them after all. They can go. Books I'm never going to re-read? Travel guides full of long-closed businesses? Those too. Pointless items I've kept for purely sentimental reasons? Now is the time to be ruthless.

The further down this path you go, the easier it gets. It feels good to throw your ballast over the side of basket of life's balloon. The shocking thing, though, is how little remains. Is this all I have to show for my years on earth? Time to remind myself - you are not what you own.

Cancel, cancel, cancel...

One thing about leaving the country is that it brings home to you just how many loose ends there are to tie up. It's only when you begin to uproot yourself that you realise quite how far those roots have spread, in the form of the various accounts and services that we accrue over the years. Phone accounts, insurance policies, utility suppliers, broadband connections. All those terms and conditions we pretend we've read that bind us to our thoroughly modern lives.

Having had some long and tedious experiences trying to extricate myself from these individually in the past, the thought of pulling the whole lot up by the roots filled me with trepidation. I'd been putting the chore off for a while, unable to face the pleading of the various 'customer retention' departments. I was pleasantly surprised, then, to find that the task was quite painless, and actually rather pleasant. When these people ask for the reason you're attempting to close your account, "I'm leaving the country" gives them scarce opportunity for argument. There's a palpable sense of relief from their end - for once, they don't have to go through the futile script designed to try and make you stay, like the desperate, deluded pleadings of a jilted lover. Or in some cases, the call provides some light relief in an otherwise bleak day - the nice lady from the pet insurance company seemed positively delighted to not, for once, be talking to someone who's beloved furry friend has just died.

Once this tension had been lifted, the conversations became rather jovial, in a way that's become quite familiar now. Throughout this process, I've been at first surprised and consistently delighted by how much people, even complete strangers, are somehow behind us. 'Oh', they say, on hearing our plans, 'how exciting!'. They relate their anecdotes of the time they went to Thailand themselves. They tell you how much they wish they could do the same thing. Somehow, the sheer romance of two people forming a team and setting off on an expedition into the wider world generates a buoyant wave of goodwill that's helped to carry us along this far. It's heartening to experience such generosity of spirit from complete strangers, even in so simple a form as a call-centre worker sincerely wishing us well on our adventures. It's a rare treat in this age to sense a smile at the other end of the phone.

Halfway there

Remember when I confessed that the title of this blog was a lie? I've now at least partially rectified that. As of last weekend, I'm now most definitely somebody's husband. Getting married was much less stressful and much more fun than I'd imagined it would be. Now, after taking a week away from the world of plans for some much-needed honeymoon relaxation*, it's time to uphold the other half of the deal. The flights are booked, and we have just three weeks to pack our life into boxes and suitcases, tie up all the loose ends and leave the country. It still doesn't quite seem real. So much to do.


*You may well be wondering, just where do you go on honeymoon when you're about to up sticks to the tropics? Obviously, you go to Glastonbury. What better way to soak up as much as possible of this country's culture before we leave, and to bask in the glory of it's lovely countryside. Thankfully, the weather gods agreed for once. A wonderful few days, and a fitting goodbye to the green grass of home.