Just over 1 day to go before I leave. Everything I do is tainted with the nostalgia of "this is the last time that I'll..."
I think I've driven a car for the last time, I've seen my friends for the last time, I've had my last pie. I've had my last meal out and my last haircut. Tomorrow I'll have my last home-cooked meal and my last cup of tea. I hope you can get tea in England. I'll be a grumpy bunny if you can't.
This evening I did a practice pack. My original plan had me taking such luxuries as my touring bicycle and my tent, but the list has gradually been whittled down to a more limited and manageable size. Compounding the issue is the fact that my pack is quite small, so I have an airline-imposed weight limit and a pack-based volume limit. Tonight my carry-on luggage is about 8 kg, and my pack is around 15 kg. I just managed to fit most of the items I had gathered, but every time I turn around I find something vital that I had forgotten. A few minutes ago I realised I had forgotten to pack my shoes. It seems increasingly likely that I'll be wearing my boots, two polar fleeces, and a jacket on the plane to Thailand.
I did some searching on packing lists and turned up the following one at http://www.travelindependent.info/whattopack.htm. I defy you to find a longer article dedicated to the concept of minimalism.
I gave away a bunch of stuff today, so my leave-behind possessions are down to a few boxes. I'm pretty pleased with how that has gone. I won't exactly have all my worldly possessions strapped to my back, but I won't be far off it.
I'm beyond stressed and into a sort of zombie-esque state in which I wander round the house without a goal, or sit staring at nothing. Tomorrow is going to be ugly.
Finally, there is a bellbird singing near our house. That seems unfair. I've lived here for maybe 25 years, and I don't ever recall hearing a bellbird in this area. But now that I'm trying to leave, there's one chiming melodically outside my window. The little sod.