I'm not sure the exact day, the day that it was decided that instead of talking about taking the big trip with the boys; actually booking it. It's all of course thanks to a combination of happy couplings and stark realities. Time is not always a given, nor is health. The Pt Chev Team was in fine fettle, but others' bad news made me think.
So thanks to a golden bank and a sterling will (only becuase I thought it needed a bit of plating), tickets were booked and dreams dusted and polished.
In 2004, the year we became three, I wrote down in a long-forgotten notebook, some things that we would do within 10 years. One was to visit a very good friend, who lives in New York. The other things were things that needed to be done, and were written with a number of other lists that you think you should write when your world has turned purple and is gasping for air. Lists help to make a bit of sense when sense has donned its cloak of invisibility and danced a merry dance off into the night.
So we were going, not just talking about it. The Pt Chev Team were going to climb into metal tubes (well a few really, as we do live on the bottom's bottom of a rotund globe) navigate the globe. Except I wasn't navigating, I'm not sure if pilots need to flip their maps to see if they're going in the right direction, I sort of hope not.
As a grown-up, it was up to me to plan, and organise, and book and dive into the cyber sea to let it throw up all sorts of earthly delights.
I can see why folk get wedding planners.
Luckily, there was a grown-up in the travelling mix of three, and low and behold it wasn't me.
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