Alea iacta est. The die is cast. Now there is no turning back.

There it arcs, in the air, not to touch the ground for a few months. It could roll anything. That's better then boring sameness here. But I am committed now. This is where I am heading. No more of this rut for me.

I have the ticket here. Flight BA 58 Leaving Cape Town (there’s only one airport in Cape Town) Thursday 7 March 2002 2040, arrive London Heathrow Terminal 4 0635 Class of travel: World Traveller (Sardine class) Status: confirmed Flying time 11Hrs 55Mins (I have made this journey before: though as a night’s sleep it sucks, as a an air trip it’s not to bad – the direction is close to due north, the time difference is only 2 hours) Special meal request – Lacto-ovo veg meal.

No longer am I “thinking”, “planning”, “considering” heading north, I am doing it, going, flying on the 7th of March, back on 12 December. Eight months in the Northern Hemisphere. A new life.

"Some travel forever in hope and are serially disappointed. Others, slightly less self-deceiving, come to accept that the process of travelling itself offers, if not fulfilment, then relief from the feeling that they should be feeling fulfilled."
- Iain M. Banks, "Look to windward"