Off to Kenya! Airport trouble...

So I'm finally on the plane. I'm not at all sure I'm ready to be.

When I was packing I did so safe in the knowledge that I couldn't possibly fit 30kg of luggage (that's the limit) into my suitcase. Actually a surprising amount could be fitted into the bag, so much surprise that I was 3kg over the weight limit at the airport. To put it another way, this is about $400 worth of excess baggage charge and I have now had a go at being one of those people in airports with their bag open and worldly possessions strewn over the floor very much regretting my mantra that underwear should always be packed last (because it's the easiest thing to fit into a tightly packed bag). My long-suffering mother was on hand and extremely patient throughout the whole affair - she's quite possibly relieved at the prospect of a break from my chaotic presence for a couple of months. It feels a bit disappointing when we're all meant to be striking out as mature adults - I would have wanted everything to run a lot smoother.

It was nice to meet up with everyone else in the group and be reassured that someone else had also brought 35kg of luggage; another lost (then found) their wallet; a water bottle was misplaced and then I realised I hat got the wrong visa documents with me and left my yellow fever vaccination certificate at home. I'm starting to fear there's no hope for me! It's quite possible that no matter how old I get I might never become a reliable adult. If I were the Kenyan immigration authorities I would think twice about letting me in!

The things I'm worried about most right now, in order of priority are:

1. My future roommate might snore
2. Kenya might not let me in without the appropriate paperwork
3. Rumour has it that a carb heavy African diet induces about a stone's weight gain per month
4. My house might not have a toilet

I've taken a moment to reflect on what real adults are worrying about right now and concluded that it was the EU referendum. On this basis it's probably just as well to count me out (of adulthood that is, not the EU, I'm absolving myself of the responsibility to have an opinion on that for now!)

Goodbye London!

So the time has come and I've moved from London home. If I had any more possessions at all it wouldn't have fitted in the car. It was dangerous enough as it was. The local children were quite excited at the sight of me with my jam packed vehicle and got involved, helping to post coat hangers into the crevices between the jumble. Just as I  was about to leave, one of my housemates reminded me that I also own a large vase, 2 casserole dishes, a cake tin and a saucepan. Disaster!

I drove with the uncomfortable feeling that I might kill myself off during the journey. I had just as many blind spots as I did clear ones, such was the amount of baggage in the car and so I did the whole journey without changing lane. As motorways merged and split off the M25 I found that the lane I was in changed and so when in the slow lane I settled behind drivers at 50mph and when I was in the middle lanes I enjoyed driving at 70mph. Basically, my driving style was more flexible than my choice of lane!

I felt sad as I travelled. It hit me for the first time that I'd given everything up. I'm in just the same position now as when I first graduated (not that I want to engage in a game of one-upmanship against my past self!). To make matters worse 'London calling' then came on the radio. I'm going to miss the city so much! However, when I walked in through the front door it was lovely to see mum and dad. Mum had cooked supper and being catered for felt like a real luxury. After eating we watched a film together, packed in 3 in a row in the sofa, all holding hands, such was our happiness at being reunited. I do very much appreciate these elements of being at home. I really ought to ask them about how they feel about my being here, giving up everything and leaving my job...I dread to think about the answer!

You can't shock a chippie. Fact

There comes a point in the night after which, drunk people should stay on the dance floor where they can't embarrass themselves becasue no one can hear them talk and their flails look like wild moves if only lit by a strobe. When they stray off it to get chips, that's when the trouble starts...

A few weekends ago I was at a fundraising party for a charity in Kenya (my own fundraising party, in fact) and all the guests were tasked with completing certain missions before the night was up in order to earn points. Some missions were easy and earned few points (hug a bouncer), others were more more challenging and so earned lots of points (turn a team of 5 people upside down in any way you like). On my way home with a few fellow party-survivors I  was very happy (not least because it wasn't my home I was going to but a friend's, thereby ensuring that the social spectacular would last another day). Much mischief had been achieved, much wine had been drunk and much funding had been raised. To make matters even better it was snowing and none of us were sober enough to feel the cold. Win, win.
You might think at this point that we were on the pinnacle of drunken satisfaction, but no, as we skipped through the snowflakes we came across a chip shop, still open at 3am. Marvellous! And once inside, with my sufficiently greasy order placed, I realised that there were still one more challenge that could be completed. Hurah! This in fact was a much more exciting pursuit than food, which I soon forgot about. It was imperative that I exercise the opportunity to take of an item of underwear and wave it in the air (thereby earning 5 more points for my team). Actually, better still, everyone ought to join in, that would be more appropriate. One female friend was keen but the other required a bit of cajoling. The boys weren't invited to join in - we needed them to hold our jackets and be the photographer. Bras were waved vigorously in the air. What a triumph! As the scene unfolded the man behind the chip shop counter tried in vain to attract our attention to tell us our food was ready (not that we were at all interested. Let's face it, it's not every night you get to wave your bra about, but it's fairly commonplace to eat cheesy chips) he was not remotely sympathetic and seemed slightly irritated that we were taking so long to leave the premises. The fact that we were in the middle of something more important clearly didn't register. It must be the case that the staff of late night take-aways have seen it all before. Customers enthralled in the tasks of being eccentric can in no way surprise them. They see the most idiotic of human antics, probably quite regularly.

Some might say, it was out of pure respect, we didn't waste his time but ran out into the night, chips in one hand underwear in the other.

Let's review book clubs

Forget book reviews. I think book clubs should be reviewed. My office book club has terrible taste (and actually has now given up reading altogether). Firstly we read 'the man in the tall castle' which has a fascinating premise but is written so badly that my school-day English teachers would weep. The club couldn't understand what was going on with the plot and largely gave up. Amazon are now turning it into a film. That'll be interesting. The next one (the purple hibiscus) the group found to be 'gritty' and 'touching' but I found it boring. When I eventually got to chose a book it was 'Scoop' by Evelyn Waugh. Amazing. Best book I've read in a really long time. It had me laughing all the way through. It was like Oscar Wilde had a grandson (named E.Waugh) who was also into writing (I realise that for practical reasons Wilde probably didn't have a grandson). No one else liked Scoop. No one even read it, they couldn't get past the first few chapters.

Scoop had actually been a second choice. I had wanted to selecting 'Closing Time', which is the follow up to Catch 22, my all time favourite book. Unfortunately for me the club collectively hates Catch 22, so the sequel was off the cards.

I can't help but feel that there's a niche for a kind of OkCupid for book clubs. In this way I can find a bunch that like books that are generally recognised to be good and they can recruit someone in my place who enjoys slow moving grit.