Emily the gypsy
I arrived in London over twenty years ago with £80 in my pocket, a telephone number and a head full of dreams. It was the first time boarding a plane, but I’ve never been so excited. As years have gone by, I seem to have lost that spirit for adventure or rather realistically life just took over. That is until I come face to face with my mortality. My brother reminds me that I always talked about travel as a little girl, perhaps fuelled by the many books my head was always buried in. Back then, my husband’s name was going to be Hugo (I’ve only ever met one Hugo but he was far too short for my liking) and I would travel the world. Well, I suppose I can still do the travelling and who knows, my Hugo may be out there somewhere. So buckle up, here I come!