Taking a year off can be a scary thing, especially if you don't have a job lined up afterwards. My friend SS told me that the realization of this sabbatical wouldn't really hit me until the door closed on the plane and it's absolutely true.

Up until that point I was too distracted by everything going on. Everyone exclaimed at what an amazing time I'd have and how lucky I was, but I couldn't fully appreciate the extent of it. There was no time to process what I was about to do because I was too busy meeting people for drinks and send-offs, making last minute preparations and doing everything else that comes with putting "real life" on hold to actually live it. Selling stuff, buying stuff, packing, unpacking, repacking, dealing with bills, credit cards, insurance, landlords, leases and so so much more personal admin. It was almost enough to put me off the whole idea.

But then, when I finally had a quiet moment to myself, it finally dawned upon me. I can remember the precise moment the penny dropped. Sitting on an Emirates A380 watching Anchor Man 2 and minding my own business, it hit me, like a wet fish across the face: holy crap, I have the whole year off. The. Whole. Year.

Not this fish thankfully. This photo and the one above taken by the lovely crew of Summertime on our Whitsundays tour

In a society where we measure everything in years; from our age, to achievements ("I've been doing this for..."), to aspirations ("My new year's resolution is..."), a year off is a long time. And I had a whole one to myself to do... I don't know what. And that's why I say it's a scary thing. Having such a vast amount of time before me, not knowing what I want to achieve or where I'll end up afterwards is unnerving. I actually had to excuse myself to the bathroom to keep from hyperventilating.

The only other time I've felt this overwhelmed was when scuba diving the Gulf of Mexico. In front of a cliff-face of coral, I made the mistake of turning around and was confronted by a wall of blue. The ocean filled my entire field of vision and I was transfixed and awestruck, unable to perceive its vastness. With blue fading to black and no protruding reef from which to draw a point of reference, I became overwhelmed, feeling as if I were being sucked into some great abyss.

In a way, I suppose The Great Escape is similar. No points of reference other than a rough sketch of where I'll be over the next few months. I haven't anything planned and there is no definite end (except for when funds run dry).

The rough travel itinerary looks like this:
- Two and a half months in Australia
- Two and a half months in Southern Africa
- A month back in London
- A couple of months in South Asia
- Get a job???

As they say, The World's My Oyster. Here's me trading one Oyster(card) for another.