(because getting to Ireland is one big DofE expedition)
I’m currently on holiday in Ireland, an activity that presently consists of being too bloody tired to do anything for reasons I’m about to explain, which required a shitload of travelling from London. Specifically, today I’ve taken the tube to Tottenham Hale, the overground train to Stansted Airport, a plane to Kerry, walked 9km along a road closely resembling a paved equivalent of a Middle Earth highway, and hitchhiked the remaining miles to the town of Killarney. And all this after a 5am fire alarm, three hours of sleep and a term’s worth of doing sports more frequently than my stringy, gangly body has ever been accustomed to doing.
The upshot of this is that I’m in a position to meet new people, do new things and generally have a break here in the countryside, but I’m feeling too exhausted and shitty to take advantage of these opportunities. Then I feel even worse for squandering my mate’s invitation to visit her home country and my parents’ dropping of 150 quid on a Ryanair flight two days before it departed. Go me.
I’m also wholly not in the mindset for such a trip; while I’m genuinely excited about the idea of a holiday, I kinda wanna build a nest of empty Doritos packets in my room and kip in it for the next week before starting on revision; instead I’m navigating Stansted customs and figuring out how to hitchhike while doing it. And while these things aren’t necessarily bad things, and are good insofar as they’re necessary evils that lead to awesome things, the Doritos Nest is looking quite attractive at this point.
But frak the nest, there’s shit to be done.
Written Sun 29th March