We fly tomorrow, ridiculously early from Heathrow, and there's just enough time amidst my frantic last minute packing and plane ticket scares to write a last post from English soil. I'm going to miss home so much, but the idea that this time tomorrow I'll be in Tanzania...pretty mind blowing. I had the best send of on Saturday that I could have asked for, complete with a very early birthday cake seeing as I'll be turning 20 out in Africa. All my injections are done, I've started the course of antimalarials, got travel insurance and dollars and an unreal amount of underwear. My corrected visa is firmly stuck in my passport (after getting the wrong one, I know now what a heart attack feels like without actually experiencing one) and LOCATE have all my details. Just in case. Let's hope I don't require the help of the Foreign Office.
So now for hand luggage and the customary panics about permitted weights and liquid allowances and passports not being where they should be. If I make it through Heathrow, I'll see you on the other side! Or meet you midway in Istanbul (that means you should be waiting in Constantinople).
Fiona
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