Excitement and anxiety can overlap. So much so that one can seem like the other. And vice versa. I’m currently just about able to separate them and recognise I’m experiencing both.
Excitement because on Tuesday I am off to Dublin for a couple of days with my brilliant son. It’s official that he is brilliant: I’ve always known it, now the world does too as he’s just got a First Class Honours degree from Oxford University.
I’m really looking forward to wandering round a city I have not visited before and especially looking forward to the time with my boy. Well, he’s a man now but also always my boy to me. We’ve booked a nice two bed apartment right in the centre of the city (AirBnB is very handy says a chap finally coming to terms with the innovations of the 21st century) so we won’t have to go far to find beautiful buildings and great views.
The anxiety is twofold and familiar to me on the cusp of any of my recent travels, even those involving an hour or so driving to see friends. I’m anxious about my health which is not awful but not brilliant right now. That’s a fair description of my health most of the time but the balance is just the wrong side of not brilliant. However it’s not like we’re planning on climbing mountains or jogging across Dublin so if I’m physically a little pathetic I’m sure we will still find fun things to do.
I’m also anxious about flying. Yes, I have forced myself to overcome this specific anxiety over the last year or so in order to enjoy the vacation at the other end of a flight but I still don’t enjoy the process. This is a short hop compared to going to America, less than an hour in the air, but as the take-off and landing are the parts that make me most stressed the brevity of the flight is hardly an anxiety reducer.
But I have Diazepam from the doctor in case I really can’t handle the thought of hurtling across the Irish Sea in a flying metal box. And I’ll have my son sitting with me to assure me we’re fine – he’s a seasoned traveller with more air miles to his name than I’ve had hot airline dinners.
Note to self: don’t do your terrible Irish accent in front of any locals. It will not endear you to them, they will only think you’re a wanker.
*Why yes, I did deliberately spell aer and lingus incorrectly. It’s a pun.