No Schedule, No Plan

I’ve always been a traveller. Not full time or all the time, but every ten years or so my feet start itching and I want to quit the job, flat and place I’m in and head off somewhere entirely new. This comes from Fergie, someone I used to work with in real life. We sometimes snuck off for forbidden pints at lunchtime, and she was the one person in the office I could talk to about escape. We were both heavily depressed, I think, but at least we’d both seen other parts of the world. You could hold that inside yourself when listening to the thrum-thrum of the photocopier and the glubble-glubble of the watercooler. Apparently her itch to “head off” happens every ten years. I expect that’s natural and actually true of everyone, only it takes someone like Fergie — someone who sees that the bars of the cage are largely imaginary — to actually act on it. Today she posted a nice long rumination on her various escapes, starting with an impromptu trip to America in the ’90s: Exciting, terrifying,…