It's Day 84, and the penultimate day of the trip.
Tomorrow morning, 10am to be exact, I'll get a coach out of here back home. And so, I find myself reflecting on how this summer's gone.
I could bore you on what I've been up to since the last blog (and trust me, bore is the operative word), but I'll be merciful and condense: quit two jobs, had a couple of nights out to celebrate the fact, spend a couple of days in Galway, visit my godmother who I hadn't seen in 18 odd years. Instead I'll do the aforementioned reflecting.
Mostly this summer was a success I think. Finding work and a flat were the two most important things, and (2nd time lucky, admittedly) I did both. The problem, though, is that I was actually having more fun before I set out, working in Rescue Rooms. Whilst I've enjoyed this summer, I would've presumably enjoyed it more if I just hadn't gone anywhere.
That's not to say I wished I hadn't done it. To do so would be to forget the other reason I did this. Back around the start of the year, I was faced with the possibility of this being a year where I sat around and achieved nothing, while my coursemates were off on their placement years earning sackfuls of experience and CV-boosting goodness. In short, I wanted something to show for this year. And rocking up in another country on my own and making something out of it? That might do it.
Plus of course, there's the issue that I was born in this city, and yet, previous to this summer, had barely any memory of it. And now I do. Which feels good.
So: a 7.2/10 success I'd say. Which I'll take, thank you.
And on that note, that's pretty much it for the trip, and so that's pretty much it for the accompanying blog. Except for one thing. There was another aim for this summer: Not lose shit loads of money. So, did I achieve that? Well I have no idea. I've long forgotten the login details for my online banking, so the last time I checked my account balance was the day before I left for Tenerife back in June. Then, it stood at this: £2000. Money earned from working at Rescue Rooms, and to be saved for getting me through the final year of uni.
Logic suggests that 2 and a half months of this, combined with just over 5 weeks of work, means that I've probably lost a sizable chunk of money. To find out if I have, there'll be one last blog post in the next few days detailing just how bad it is. Suffice to say, I'm bloody scared...