It's odd, and it's taken me a while to track down the source of it, but over the last couple of days I've had several moments of a really strong need to pack my bags and head off into the world to see what ever there is to see.It's a combination of several things; Charlie Boorman's television programme By Any Means, walking the Pembrokeshire Coastal Path in July, reading Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts and a general restlessness I've been experiencing over the last few years. The main catalyst, I think, was a barely heard/understood conversation I had with JB in O'Neills on Friday night (it was very noisy) about our respective travel experiences, philosophies and our next or ideal destinations. That kinda threw everything into some sort of relief.
Interestingly, I was sitting in the car ont he way to someone's house to pick up a freecycle printer when Elkie Brooks did a live acoustic set on Michael Ball's Radio 2 show earlier today singing her new single Powerless. It was during this fantastic rendition that I had perhaps my strongest rush of this emotional inertia, this almost primeval need to get up and go. I've had to go online as I type this and play it again through the BBC iPlayer.
There is something about carrying all you own in a single pack that is extremely rewarding and, I suppose, liberating. This from a person who is constantly castigated for the amount of stuff he owns, but I suppose even I have that need to shed the detritus of my materialistic nature on occasion.
A camera, some clothes, a book or two, a laptop for blogging and a pad and pen for writing, and I'd be perfectly happy. Just get up, go, vanish into the vast open world to move and experience and live amongst the strangeness of every day.
Is there anything more? Sometimes I think not.