It's quiet and the house is dark. I can't sleep -my mind is filled with future destinations, not all of which I am certain of - and anticipation keeps my minds eye open. I envision getting lost in cobbled Roman streets, staring in awe at ancient structures and vigilantly fending off hoards of pick pockets and gypsies (thanks, Mum!). Visions of crisp snow, Paris lights, Morroccan flavours and exotic delights crowd my brain. In the corner of my thoughts, a flickering light catches my attention - I feel as if I can almost touch it and as I extend my hand to grasp the thread in my hand, my alarm sounds, waking me with a start. It is 4am, thank god I did manage two hours sleep but now it's time to go, the taxi arrives in 10 mins. Carl, the driver, is reassuringly Australian and his harmless narrative washes over me on the way to the airport. I have many hours ahead of me until I reach my destination and I smile to myself as the plane wheels leave the tarmac.
