I'm off to Gozo in two days, not for a whole year but with the intention to visit a number of times over period of a year to see if I'd like to live here permanently or part time, or at least use it as a base as I wind down to retirement. In case you hadn't guessed the title alludes to 'A Year in Provence' by Peter Mayle.
This is my first attempt at a blog so I'll probably dwell on the trivial and skip over the interesting bits but bear with me, give me constructive criticism and it'll improve - maybe.
In fact this began a couple of months ago when I was dragged here kicking and screaming with the family. They'd booked a villa for two weeks but I was to be allowed home in just a week if I behaved myself. I'd just resigned from the IT department of a leading hedge fund - immaculate timing as it turned out - and was thinking of taking a bit of a break for many reasons that will come out in this blog. After a day or two of boredom at the villa we* got on our bikes** to go exploring, and an idea took shape that if I wasn't going to do anything for six months or so then Gozo would be a great place to not do anything.
So with two days to go I'm frantically trying to get the last few things I need, to decide how (or even whether) to ship a big screen and printer to go with the laptop, (damn you, SleazyJet's excess bagagge charges), to pack the bicycle that I haven't even put through its paces yet, and try to leave my flat in a state that will survive my first three weeks without me. Yes, the first trip is just for three weeks. I've rented an apartment from Mario who owns the villa the family has stayed in over the last few years and who'll probably feature prominently in some future postings. The plan is to find somewhere cheaper for a long term base rather than rush into buying.
I run into the town centre for the last minute shopping. I need to change a bunch of things M+S online sent out wrongly and some stupid things like more trainer socks, a casual belt and above all I need one of those compact wallets with a change pocket and just room for an ID card and one or two payment cards like my son has rather than my formal leather thing stuffed with cards.
With the essentials done I've run out of time for shopping today so that'll have to wait until tomorrow, as will a last visit to a client who I do some part-time work for. Check-in is at 04:35 on Wednesday so I don't want to end up spending all Tuesday night packing but at this rate...
* my son, his girlfriend and myself
** actually rented from the unlikely named Joe Sultana opposite the bus station in Victoria
