I'm sitting on the bus as I type this. We're somewhere in Belgium, somewhere 35 minutes north of Lille. It's been a long, nerve wrecking day. I've not known what go do with myself I've been so nervous. It's the uncertainties of the journey that bothers me the most. Going by is like any other form of transport. You don't know how full it's gonna be or who you're gonna be sitting next to. You don't know if you'll be going by ferry or EuroTunnel. You don't know if your bus might end up being chosen for a spot check by French customs (I might loose my beautiful plants that I've got sitting in a wicker basket by my feet if that happens, I'm crazy like that). So far, the bus is full, and thanks to my digging it looks like we're going by EuroTunnel and as far as customs go, we just gotta wait.
As I sit awake and unable to sleep, I'm waiting for reality to sink in. I'm moving to England. A dream I've clung to for over two years is finally coming to pass. I'm scared and excited.