Vintage clothing and rainy mountains

This is, probably, the worst blog I have ever written. I apologise unreservedly.

It´s not that I plan to write it badly, more that I am falling asleep at my computer and have to go to bed to enjoy the, oh, three hours I have before I wake up and have to hike 22km. (WTF? Why am I doing this? Where is the pleasure in such an undertaking? Who in their right mind pays loads of money to go trekking round a frigging ice cap and mad rugged windy rainy freezing mountains with a load of stuff strapped to their back? Surely only some sort of knobhead.)

Therefore the blog will be extremely brief.

Well, for starters, I am not ready for this trek. I am not a natural trekker.  In spite of spending most of my formative years grubby and wild, I never really embraced the walking thing. I got from A to B on a horse or in a car. When I try to walk somewhere I get bored and impatient and my feet start to hurt. I don´t like it. I sit down and hope that someone will send a helicopter.

Which is probably why, when I went out earlier to get a sleeping bag and some quick-dry trousers (oh, the horror) I somehow managed to buy a vintage dress, jumper, cardigan and handbag. Er, yes. In a small Chilean town that serves only as a base for climbers? I don´t understand how that happened either.

I am going to have to send these extremely naughty items home in the post because they have no place in the backpack of a bum-faced bummy traveller (I should at least have bought a guitar or some fire poi or something) – but I must say that owning them has made me alarmingly happy. They are sitting there, with that rank but familiar vintage clothing smell, reminding me of London.

I am missing London a lot at the moment. Make no mistake, I am very, very happy to be on this amazing trip but at times I long for an M&S sandwich or the chatter of people whose language I don´t have to fry my brain trying to understand. Most of all, though, I think I am missing London most of all because The Man is there.

I know. It´s a bit sad. But I miss him. Seeing him there on skype, wearing jumpers that I never met in BA, hanging out with dogs in Wales, making loaves of absolutely outstanding-looking bread (I shit you not) and seeing his flat, full of books about clever stuff… ah, it makes me realise that I really am mad about the boy. Proper, like. And that I love what I´m doing now but that I also have something rather awesome waiting for me in London. Mentally at least, it´s going to be a good Valentine´s day this year. I think I am long overdue one of these.

So that´s it. On that vomit-inducing note I am going to have to go to bed. Wish me luck. MOUNTAINS: I AM COMING TO GET YOU.

 

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