When you experience “too much travel”

This week, I discovered there is such a thing as “too much travel”… I’m reflecting on it now, as I prepare to take my sixth flight of this week.

On Monday, I set off from Tokyo, flying to Helsinki. Then, from Helsinki to London Heathrow, followed in quick succession by a flight to Edinburgh. The following day I flew home to London.

I thought I was all set for international travel for a couple of weeks when my dad was suddenly taken ill and I had to fly back up to Edinburgh to see him in hospital. Obviously, this required another flight – and another delay, thanks to British Airways – which only added to my stress and lack of sleep.

And so this evening, I find myself back at Edinburgh Airport, family health crisis slightly abated, and ready to fly home to London City Airport. Edging through security, where even fast track was jammed, I ran out of patience when a couple of middle-aged drunks decided to push past me.

They’ll remember my face, I think.

I honestly feel like I’ve spent the week in airports and a minimum of time in my own bed. I had, precisely, one night in my own apartment in London.

Now don’t get me wrong,  I love travel. This blog pretty much exists because of my need to share tales from my various jaunts around the world. But this week, I hit the buffers. The travel got less and less comfortable as the week went on – I went from a delightful and friendly business class experience with Finnair to a decidedly grumpy (and late) British Airways flight on Wednesday night.

While none of this has involved me breaking rocks by the side of the road or enduring physical torture – I know which side my bread is buttered – it has been difficult, tiring and at times, enormously stressful.

It’s one thing to hop on a plane to start a wonderful holiday in Tokyo, it’s quite another to queue in a cramped boarding gate to get to a hospital to see a sick family member.

So I’m looking forward to spending the weekend in my apartment, leaving only to go downstairs to the gym and the sauna. And maybe the cinema. I’m fantasising about sleeping in my own bed and not getting dressed until absolutely necessary. And even then, maybe only into sweatpants.

No more airports until August 14th.