Finally ready. Well, at least my stuff is. It is zip-locked, silica-gelled and crammed haphazardly into an assortment of bags. After several dodgy moments on the bathroom scales, I'm not truly convinced that it weighs less than 25 kilos. I'm not even sure if 25 kilos is the limit, or if it's in fact 23 kilos, or if I'm actually allowed 2 bags. Oh god. What if they confiscate one of my bags at check-in? What if I arrive in Banglades with a million zip-loc bags and half a kilo or silica gel, but no knickers!? What if they lose my bags on the way? What if I have to wear sandals and linen trousers FOREVER!
As you might be able to tell, while my stuff is ready, my head certainly is not. Having spent the last few days haring across the country and saying various drunk and weepy goodbyes, I don't really believe that tomorrow afternoon I'll actually be leaving the UK for 13 months.
Gulp.
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