ME HERE, WHY.

ME HERE – WHY?

“It’s true; life really is generous to those who pursue their destiny”
The Alchemist – Paulo Coelho

Chapter 1

Travelling, that’s it, that’s what I would do. In fact I thought, I wouldn’t just travel, I would do something useful, like voluntary work in a third world country, or maybe a developing country or maybe a country that just needed a bit of help. I could do something useful, like paint fences in bright cheery colours near a beach in the sun. I could teach English to cute kids who thought I was great and hugely inspirational, near a beach in the sun.

Therefore, I decided I would travel/volunteer/swan around a tropical and hopefully exotic country for five months. This great plan of exploring other climes/buggering off for a while meant that I would also be dealing head on with a number of issues that had been gnawing away at me for a while.

Firstly I hated my job and couldn’t be arsed to do another C.V. I couldn’t face going to interviews and pretend to be enthusiastic about photocopying and listen to someone dull tell me that the Company was “a happy but efficient little team”, whilst asking me bollocks questions like “What would I bring to the TEAM”:- The answer, syphilis, herpes and a bad attitude, I guess was not the answer Mr, devoid of personality was looking for. I was also shocked to learn that being able to drink three bottles of wine get home in one piece and still manage to get to work the next day was not considered a “strength”. So, having established with a voluntary organisation that they did not require a C.V, want to interview me, or even check that I was sane, there seemed no reason not to go.

Secondly, I felt my life was becoming routine, and frankly my friends no longer found me funny, therefore by going away to an exotic and hot country would surely mean I would meet new and adventurous people. They would not have heard any of my stories and would never know if I was lying or not. They would think me terribly funny and embrace me with a new respect that had long been missing from my current friends.

Thirdly I had recently come into some money and if I stayed in London with this money I would spend it inappropriately on my addiction to cheap clothes, white wine, take always and vodka:- Therefore, end up a fat, penniless alcoholic in ill fitting clothes.. I surely wouldn’t be able to get my hands on any of this filth in my new hot and exotic country.

Finally, I had recently separated from my husband of a year and half and really what better of dealing with this sensitive issue than not being around when the proverbial shit hit the fan.

South America, I decided. It’s hot isn’t it? And it’s not near England so it’s bound to be exotic. I could learn Spanish; I would do good things and help those less advantaged than myself. I would get a great tan and I would have a string of hot Latin lovers.

Obviously, one of these Latin lothario’s would be entranced by my English rose looks. He will undoubtedly own a coffee plantation or perhaps a small island. He will demand that I live there and I will have to spend the rest of my life living in perfect bliss and harmony. This would also solve the problem of what the hell to do once my huge adventure came to an end.

Now, on discussions with friends, this news was received with a varying degree of scepticism and dismissal. It has to be said that in my thirty six years of existence on this planet I have had many great ideas, of which I have done absolutely nothing about.

For many an hour I waxed lyrically about the evils of meat as I intended to convert to vegetarianism. By day two I was, I believe deliberately presented with a steaming plate of Italian meatballs in a tomato and herb sauce. This was too much to bear and that was the end of vegetarianism.

I was going to give up the Girl Guides to become a professional athlete. One week later I was neither.

I announced with great gusto that coffee and tea were clogging up my system and that every morning I would imbibe hot water with lemon. I believe I have drunk this at least five times over the last ten years.

It is therefore fair to say that after this brief description of my inherent crapness that no one believed me or frankly cared when I talked about travelling to South America, because as they all knew the likelihood of it ever happening was predictably obvious.

It therefore came as a huge surprise to everyone, no one more than me, when I appeared to have booked a ticket and even gone as far as booking Spanish lessons and enrolling on a voluntary scheme in South America for street children - not just for a namby pampy month but for four. Bloody Hell!

I know when I put it into perspective, that I was not about to map unchartered territory or educate natives into believing in a new faith I however, was pretty impressed with myself.

Now all I had to do was actually do it. I was going to really try and break my pattern of crapness.