The x-factor looky-likey and new-best-friend-for-the-night leave the country tonight for an epic travelling adventure that sees them visit far-flung places in the east, down under, and out west. I’m hideously jealous, not just because of the fun, excitement, adventures and unexpected that lies in wait for them, but because it reminds me that I’m getting older, and it’s the next generation’s turn to have a go.
In my early twenties, I had a travelling adventure: packing my rucksack and heading off on my own into the sunrise for a year or so. New places meant new experiences to have, new people to meet, new sights to see, new food to eat, new drinks to be drunk and new challenges to not crumble in front of. Some of my best memories are from that trip: pie and mash with friends at the harbour in Sydney; fresh fruit in a hammock on a tropical island; potato wedges, sweet chilli sauce, sour cream and a pub quiz in a red light district; a birthday of canapés with a 90’s pop star, a box of wine in a cab on the way to the beach, and falling into the sea as a finale; cheese sandwiches eaten from a tiny cool bag on a three day train journey; a night of vodka, lemon, lime and bitters in a city bar finishing an hour before work began; over-heated turkey and brie sandwiches on xmas day on a beach; chatting to civil rights campaigners over pancakes from a diner in the deep south… I could go on.
Of course my memories don’t all centre around food and drink; it’s the people I met and the times we had. But sometimes I’m reminded of those times by the taste of a certain bit of cake or a sip of a certain drink. I’m sure it will be the same for the boys, and I know they will have an amazing time. Do I want to go with them and do it all again? Oh yes…
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