All fired up

I had just woken up in my friend's coal shed after his birthday party when work called to 'release me early from my contract', which I think is the same as getting sacked. It seems they weren't happy that I refused to work on New Year's Day on account of having a hangover. I thought it was, at least, an honest explanation for my absence.

Any feelings of shame, guilt or regret quickly passed when I realised they were still going to pay me until my official leaving date on January 13, so I suddenly had plenty of time to get organised for my trip on the 17th.

I've bought a ticket to Cancun in Mexico, which seems to be the cheapest place to fly to, then I plan to head southwards, hopefully as far as Antarctica. Other than that I'm going to take things as they come.

I think I've got just about everything sorted now. My international press card arrived, which is a blood-red wallet with PRESS emblazoned across it in big golden letters. I particularly like the way it lands with a 'thud' when you toss it onto a desk. I also got my international driving permit through the post, which is a most peculiar document. It's made of old-fashioned grey paper, and has the look of a wartime ration book. I've got my passport, a bottle opener, a notebook, a lighter, a penknife and a packet of asprins, so I'm all set to go.

In the meantime there's an apple orchard that needs Wassailing on Saturday. The cider's ready for tapping and there's a lamb on order, so all we need now is a virgin for the tree. More on this later.