What the @£%& to do?

I hate pauses. That's not wholly correct, what I do hate is inaction, inactivity on my part. Yesterday Will returned to Southampton for a second interview, ending up on the streets of Fratton, knocking on doors in an attempt to convince the population of Portsmouth that they really need cavity wall insulation. He did well and has been offered a full time position, well done Will. At the same time Sam was pootling around Gosport and surrounding environs on a motorcycle to gain his CBT. As a result when I arrived home Sam was somewhat tired and Will was still awaiting yet another interview. All very exciting but my point is that as I intended to make myself available to pick up Will if he needed it I sat, quietly and waited. Beth and Ed disappeared to bed and Sam sat engrossed in the world of Norrath. Emma and I sat quietly in the front room, the only discernible sounds, the faint ticking of the cuckoo clock above the fire, the tinny whisper of Sam's magical ministrations within the world of Everquest 2 and the background honk of 'Tash from the pub vomiting into the bin. This idyllic scene seemed frozen in time for a brief second, my mind relaxed and it was though the constant rush of my life ceased and I was aware of my surroundings for the first time. It was a punctuated pause in a busy stream of non-stop activity, a comma within the usual melee of family and professional existence. Emma sat nervously, fidgeting and occasionally glancing at her watch. Although I was concerned about Will she was even more so. This was the pause, a point when I realised I had not stopped for a second for god knows how long.

Emma is content with quiet calm, in certain circumstances I am too, usually in her company and usually somewhere steeped in history and culture. Romania was a perfect example as was Kingswear castle. Both instances when we could both let go and relax, enjoy each others company in stunning surroundings. This pause was different, it was due, in the main part, to the fact that the boys and Beth were doing their own thing. Beth was in her room. Ed asleep, but the older boys were engaged in activities of their choice without any influence from either me or Emma. This was a taste of things to come. All of my plans for travel and writing projects will almost certainly have to figure without the boys, Will and Sam won't want to follow their Dad around the world to locations that don't interest them. I have always needed a number of projects ticking along to keep me sane, I am so grateful that Emma allows me this personal space, without her understanding I would have gone mental years ago.

I have been reading a lot of travel books, Underground London by Stephen Smith, And did those feet by Charlie Connally and now Dave Gorman vs The rest of the world by, surprisingly enough, Dave Gorman. This following Eat my Globe by Simon Majumdar has opened my eyes to themes and interests to explore when travelling. My original idea of 'The sausage trail' still appeals but I feel there needs to be more to any purpose for travel than just that.

The idea of travelling for the sake of travelling alone was initially appealing but following the Timbuktu trip I realised that without a purpose and continuing interest to proceed there exists little more than the ambition to reach the destination. The journey becomes secondary to the goal and to mind this will almost certainly ensure that the potential to meet and interact with people on the way is sorely reduced. The speed of the journey is important also. Flying into a destination has little appeal for me now, in fact driving a car over large distances in a short period of time, such as the Calais to Casablanca jaunt, also instills little excitement.