Let’s travel, they said. It’ll be great, they said. Spoiler alert: “great” is relative.
The journey began with an invitation I’d received ages ago—so long ago that saying yes felt like an easy, distant promise. Flight tickets? Secured in the summer. Accommodation? Booked on Saturday. Before the flight. Transport? Mostly arranged... the morning of the flight. Yes, I thrive on adrenaline.
Packing? Oh, that happened on Friday itself, just hours before the flight. Panic attacks? Had one on Monday for good measure, and another on Thursday, because of course. Fast forward to now: I’m sitting on the plane, quietly praying I haven’t forgotten anything crucial. Passport? Check. Sanity? Questionable.
A Plane Ride Full of Intrigue
So here’s a mystery: Why do people suddenly need to eat the second the plane takes off? It’s a two-hour flight, folks—not a trek across the Andes. Anyway, we weren’t seated together, but there was an empty seat next to me. A man nearby decided to claim it, upgrading himself to the window seat. Meanwhile, I spent the flight worrying about the sheer absurdity of my preparations.
Welcome to England!
We landed and found our bus stop—at least I think it was the right one. It left six minutes early, but hey, it said Colchester, and I asked. Plus, it only cost £2. Bargain, right?
And then we were off. First observation: roundabouts. Lots of them. They really do turn left here, and it’s unnerving. The bus? A charmingly ancient Arriva model with windows that rattled so enthusiastically, I was half-convinced they’d shatter mid-journey.
The Drama on the Bus
If you think that was eventful, wait for Act II. Someone decided shoes belong on bus seats. And then a group of lads boarded with beers, cracked them open, and prepared to party. Thankfully, the driver wasn’t having it. He gave them a choice: pour out the beer or get off. They poured it out (and apologized, surprisingly).
But the pièce de résistance? A narrow road lined with parked cars, effectively transforming it into a one-way street. Turns out, it was near a school event. The driver had to disembark multiple times to direct traffic—because buses can’t reverse. The whole ordeal felt like a scene from a British sitcom.
Safe and Sound
Despite everything, we made it to our hotel alive and intact. The room? Cozy, with WiFi so questionable it turned TV into our primary source of entertainment. Cue quizzes, comedians, and—of course—British adverts.
Travel, they said. It’ll be great, they said. And honestly? They weren’t entirely wrong.
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