It felt most strange walking from my sister’s house to nearby Leighton Buzzard railway station, with my modest backpack filled to the brim with what I have finally decided are the essentials for a 7 month trip round the world. It all felt so normal… and yet it wasn’t in the slightest. I already suspected that I wouldn’t quite be the same person when I walked back from the station the following year. The few late commuters in the train paid no attention to me. They had no idea where I was going.

My flight across the Atlantic was a cheap deal that involved flying first to Schiphol (Amsterdam) and then with KLM to Houston. Why fly to Houston? Firstly it is close to the Mexican border and though I had never been to the USA, exploring this vast country isn’t on the agenda for this trip. Secondly, the main reason: my youngest sister has been living in Houston for 2 years and I will be staying with her for a week.

Arriving at Terminal 4 Heathrow to board the Schiphol flight I knew that I was finally closing a chapter. Any slim chance of some kind of a reconciliation with my ex-girlfriend would disappear once I’d departed the UK. I’d written her a short letter about the car sale and confirming that I was heading off round the world. I posted it in the terminal, took a deep breath and walked into the security area without looking back.