And so ends another journey. My stint in the mountains came to an end a couple of days ago, and Skiworld sent me and five others home on a lovely 18-hour coach ride… It wasn’t as bad as it sounds, actually, although it certainly felt like 18 hours by the end of it. We drove all the way from La Plagne high in the French Alps, up through the middle of France, past Paris at some point (in the middle of the night so I didn’t see it) and all the way to Calais. From there, it was a simple case of jumping on the 4am ferry across the channel, and a morning drive up to London where we were all dropped off.
What better way to say hello to England than with a dirty (big) fryup at Wetherspoons? My little group of newly-made friends were all very sad to have left a lot of their friends behind. I was lucky to have gotten the job at all for just the last month of the season, and I really enjoyed it for what it was but these guys had been there from the beginning back in December. They had lived and worked with the same people for the duration of the season so emotions were running high. I never really clicked with anyone as well as I did in New Zealand, but that was to be expected, I suppose, arriving so late the way I did. Not that it stopped me from enjoying the mountains, skiing whenever I could and generally making the most of my time there. I am considering doing another season properly next year, depending on where I end up.
I accidentally slept for 17 hours last night, and missed almost the entire day. At least I made up for the mostly-sleepless coach drive! It is strange to be home again, but I’m not giving it much thought. My time now is devoted to getting my novel tidied up and ready for publication. A friend of mine is reading it with the hope of being inspired enough to draw me a front cover, my grandma is reading it because she’s my grandma and she simply had to, and I am busy looking into ways of turning something I’ve poured countless number of hours into already, into an actual book… very exciting! I’ve given myself a release date which I reckon I can hit. After thumbing through my journal, I found a page where I had written the following: “Had some cool ideas for a story lately and have been working on it over the last few days. For the record, today was the day I came up with “The Toilet.” Right now I think the story has some potential…” Ten months later, here I sit with a completed first-draft on my hands. I’m aiming for the 12th June to publish it – exactly 1 year to the day after I created the Word file on my computer and wrote my first sentence.
I don’t know where I’m going to go next. But summer is approaching, and even though English summers are notoriously fickle, sometimes refusing to even show up at all, I’ve got a few ideas of what to do during it… Come back later to find out about that. In the meantime, its farewell. I’m finally home… again. Blimey.