I am not a stressy person, honestly I'm not. There are six days to go until Jane and I hit the road for Africa. Am I ready? Am I chunky buggery. I have three pages of notes "to do" and a house that looks like the wreck of the Hesperus. I am plagued with anxiety and unanswered questions chase each other round the wide windy plains of my mindlet while I lie sleepless each night. What if we never find the other people doing the trip? What if the car breaks down in the back ass of nowhere and nobody will help us? Where will I wee?
I know that next Wednesday when we actually leave I will be as excited as a chimp with a bag of monkey nuts. It's the bit between now and next Wednesday that is reducing me to a gibbering wreck.
By the way, does anybody know where Poole is? I have a ferry ticket with my name on it and I'm really not sure where Dorset is.......
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