Thank goodness for... Bournemouth

This won't stay clean for long...

Without having sat still for very long since long before I left Hong Kong, the packing and preparation for this trip has seemed relentless.  No sooner do I get one thing finished, than another thing needs doing - or chasing up, or doing again.  It’s not just biking kit, paperwork and mechanical issues.  It’s calling the bank to stop them blocking my card, calling the tax office to find out how best to handle my tax assessment (er.... do it before you go, was the unhappy advice), finding a post office that could issue an International Driving Permit... that sort of thing.

Early mornings and late nights, lots of riding practice, a fair bit of fitness work.  The best remedy for all this was to enjoy a few days’ break I’d set up with some friends.  Momentarily the to-do list looked in control so I took the bike on a final reconnaissance trip, and headed to the beach for the Bank Holiday.  The sunshine was glorious, the sand soft and warm, but the sea still frekkin freezing!  You’re not in Hong Kong any more, Dorothy, so don’t pretend the sea is warm enough yet.  Great BBQ from Abby’s friend Claire, and lovely company.  Just what the doctor ordered, quite literally.

Bluebell woods in Kent.

Back in Kent it was full on in the preparation game again.  I’ve been trying so hard to keep all the plates spinning... there are a few ‘last minute’ items that I’ve ordered off the internet, but some of these haven’t arrived.  The postal delays caused by the Bank Holidays have caused a problem I ought to have safeguarded against.... so I’m a bit annoyed at myself, but too tired to fix it up.

At last, I can pack all my kit.  Steve helps out and keeps things ship-shape and condensed.  Mum helps with some discreet sewing of secret pockets and design improvements.  Dad wisely keeps his head down, issues medical advice and ensures I have a clean helmet (and windscreen).  Jess wonders why I haven’t found more time to meet the niece and Grandma tells me again about the trip she did to Italy in 1946....  Or was it India?

A final few walks in the woods to admire the bluebells; another succulent piece of steak; chance meetings with family and friends.  The days and hours have rushed by and suddenly it’s time to go.  For once I’m ready on time - even the tax form was submitted - and with the sounds of Kate and Will’s wedding in the background I’ve got to go.

All at once this is overwhelming.  Suffocated in my biker suit, sleep deprived and stressed, it takes just one watery-eyed look from my Mam and suddenly I’m blubbering like a child again.  Big hugs all rounds as I gasp for a deep breath and some toughen-up tonic.  I’ve ‘left home’ to go travelling so many times, but this one feels different.  The unmentioned danger of motorcycle riding is suddenly on everyone’s mind.  Everyone wants me to go safely, and for a very intense moment, nobody wants this more than me.