|travelling solo means stopping outside Chanel instead of |
WHSmith for a selfie
Solo trips as a young adult meant hopping in the car, on the train, or (rarely) taking a plane to somewhere in the UK for a short trip or maybe even a holiday. Later, it meant flying to and from Vancouver before the big emigration, while mr ebb was setting up our new life overseas. Recently, the furthest I've been in Victoria, and that was with a friend so maybe it doesn't count.
Maybe this trip doesn't really count--going back to my parents--who knows, but to me it's huge; for the first time in over a decade I'm flying solo, with no Wee Guy sidekick.
So, how was it?
Not bad, apart from the saying goodbye part.
It was odd being in charge of only my own seat, entertainment, snacks and visits to the loo.
It felt strangely straightforward navigating for one in between flight connections.
And it feels bloody weird being at my parents' house just by myself for the first time in several decades.
Odd, but enjoyable. This solo travel thing.