Yesterday a thick package containing my InterRail Pass fell through my letterbox, and I realised that I am actually going to Europe. For so long it seemed to be in the distant future; like children and arthritis. But exams distracted me and now it looms menacingly close. I leave in nine days time, and if all goes to plan I will be back by the 5th of August, when I can begin recounting my tale to you. Though it is quite possible that we will not return at all, perhaps frozen on a lonely Bavarian street or lost deep in Hungarian peasant country, forced to pick potatoes to earn our keep.
The ticket information leaflet is plastered with pictures of glamorous young people relaxing in train carriages and hugging amorously in front of the Eiffel tower. A noble dream, but I suspect we will look more like contingent of hard bitten tramps, and my thoughts will likely be of murder rather than love after spending 22 days imprisoned in a train carriage.
Anyway, I am taking my camera, and will return weighted with experiences to share with you. Wish me luck.