If I could have packed anything before last month’s travelling, it would have been my free will and peace of mind, all neatly folded and secure. But endless Green-Amber list flip-flops left both those hopes crumpled at the bottom of my suitcase. Though if it means seeing family in Ireland after 18 months apart, or new adventures at home or abroad, it’ll take more than that to stop me.
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I woke on Tuesday at 4am and could hardly breathe. I was sweating (and, post-menopausal that I am, I never sweat) and racked with worry. I grabbed my hair, put my head in my hands, and said out loud, ‘What am I doing? What was I thinking?’