It’s two weeks until we plan to leave. The business is sold, most furniture is sold, the house will be let soon, the rum collection is safe and sound (thanks guys.) It feels weird to be packing up, binning, selling or giving away an entire life, reducing everything to stuff to sleep in, stuff to wear and stuff to cook with. The mattress has gone to the tip, so now we’re sleeping on the floor. That feels great and liberating when camping in a tent, but in a house it just feels like squatting.

Away from all the naval gazing, my arse hurts. We got our bikes back from a wheel build and service about four weeks later than we hoped, so we haven’t done any cycling for ages. After about a week of doing some short rides, it all seems like such a bad idea. We’re just going to have to get fit and used to our saddles again when we leave. We’ll have three months to get ourselves out of the EU once we start so we can take it easy, but honestly at this point we might as well walk round the world.