The Graduate is wonderfully calm in the face of my hysteria.
“Don’t cry,” he tells me, repeatedly. “Don’t cry. You’re going to be fine. It’s
an adventure. We’re going to be fine.” I give him my very best
‘I’m-a-big-girl-who-can-totally-handle-this’ grin, then sob for the entirety of
the two-hour train journey back to London.
Having jumped that hurdle, I now appear to be operating in a
state of relative calm. The only indication that something big is about to
happen is my bolting upright in bed two or three times a night,
hyperventilating manically and scrabbling for my passport. As I went through
exactly the same process before moving to Ghana a couple of years ago, I’m
confident that actually, things are going to be okay.
Let’s go, Berkeley!
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