The Morning Felt Perfect

Daily miles: 0 | Total miles: 16,522.39

I woke up around 6 a.m., had a hot coffee, and faced an important decision. Should I fold the buggy, pack it into its travel bag, and prepare for the usual transportation challenges, or should I simply try my luck and travel with it fully assembled and loaded with all my belongings? I haven't always been lucky with that approach, but today felt like a good day to give it a try.

At 8 a.m., Bee arrived with her electric car. We removed the wheels and loaded the buggy into the trunk while leaving everything else as it was. I haven't checked exactly how many miles she drove me from Newhaven to Chelmsford, but it must have been at least half the journey. What I enjoyed most wasn't the ride itself, though. It was the conversation. I felt so comfortable sitting beside her, so relaxed and so free to talk openly. We shared stories, thoughts, experiences, and reflections. The time disappeared. Honestly, I could have spent the entire day talking. I felt unbelievably well.

Around 10 a.m., I arrived in Chelmsford and we said our goodbyes. I checked the train situation and discovered a delay with no clear resolution time. Instead of worrying about it, I found a café and enjoyed another coffee. Eventually the issue was resolved, and I bought a ticket that required one train change in Norwich. The man at the ticket office assured me that I could take the buggy as it was and even reserved bicycle spaces for free on both trains. Friendly customer service.

I waited for the train feeling good, excited, and ready to travel. When it arrived, I parked the buggy in the bicycle area, sat down, and planned to catch up on a few things. Then, all of a sudden, I started feeling completely off. Nauseated, dizzy, weak, shaky, and uneasy. At first, I thought it might pass, so I got some water from the buggy and drank. Then I found some biscuits and forced myself to eat, elevated my legs on the seat, closed my eyes, and focused on my breathing. But none of it seemed to help. The nausea became stronger and stronger, and I started feeling incredibly sick.

I decided to distract myself and called my mother. I asked her how she was doing, and when she asked me the same question, I explained that I was feeling unwell in several ways. Talking didn't seem to help either, so we agreed to speak again later. I searched for a plastic bag, leaned back in my seat, and informed the only other passenger in the carriage that there was a good chance I might vomit soon. She smiled and said not to worry because she had two little children at home. For some reason, that made me smile too.

I closed my eyes again and focused on breathing. A little while later, the woman left the train and I finally threw up what clearly needed to come out. Afterwards, I still felt weak, but my stomach felt noticeably better. I rested my head on the table and spent the remainder of the journey quietly recovering.

When I arrived in Norwich, I moved slowly through the station, checking where my connecting train would depart from. One station employee noticed me wobbling slightly and asked whether I needed anything. I told him I felt nauseated and was looking for a bag, just in case. He said he didn't have one but went looking anyway. A few minutes later he returned with a giant bag, almost big enough for me to stand in. "It's big," he said, "but better than nothing." That made me smile too.

I tucked it away and went to buy an electrical adapter. Returning to the UK had reminded me once again of all the little differences: driving on the left side of the road, using a different currency, and plugging electronics into outlets that still look strangely unfamiliar to me. Every country has its own style.

After a quick bathroom stop, I hurried to catch my connecting train. The train was packed, but I pushed the buggy and myself through the door anyway, apologizing to everyone for taking up so much space and being such a large travelling obstacle. Somehow it worked, and before long I arrived in Great Yarmouth.

Originally, I had planned to stay in Caister-on-Sea, but Great Yarmouth offered plenty of affordable accommodation and had a train station, which seemed like the smarter choice. I looked up hotels, bought a few groceries, and quickly realized that my body was in full sick-day mode. For me—and I suspect for many Swiss people—that means bananas, salt pretzels, and Coca-Cola. Not exactly gourmet dining.

I found a room at Kevin's place. The buggy stayed downstairs, and by 3 p.m. I was finally looking at a bed. The moment I saw it, I felt relief. I ate some pretzels, drank some Coke, and lay down for a few hours. I hoped I would wake up feeling 100 percent again. That wasn't quite the case, but I definitely felt better.

Later, I walked down to the seafront. The fresh air was nice, but I could still tell something was off. I went shopping again and once more struggled to find food that felt appealing. Eventually I came back with more Coke, some rice, bread, and bananas. Simple food. Recovery food.

As I'm writing this, I feel much better than I did on the train, though not quite back to normal. The morning felt wonderful. I felt relaxed, connected, energized, and happy. Then, within a short period of time, my entire system seemed overwhelmed. Whatever it was, tomorrow will tell me more.

For now, I am grateful to be safe, indoors, and resting. And I will definitely enjoy these final days of the journey.

Take care, Andrea