From Plymouth to Peru


Two months before I flew over the Amazon’s twisting tails and into Lima’s cloudy fortress, I watched Castaway.

Had I not just written covering letter number 77 my viewing schedule for this insignificant evening would have faded into obscurity. As it was, I was an English graduate earning £6.50 an hour 18 months after throwing my mortarboard into the air. Therefore, when Tom Hanks closed Castaway with the words;

‘And tomorrow the sun will rise, and who knows what the tide could bring’.

I felt particularly moved.

Several days later I received the graduate’s equivalent to a golden ticket:

CONGRATULATIONS: You have been selected

(An email I expected about as much as Chuck expected a toilet screen).

Before this mutates into a ‘thegraduatejobmarketissotough’ blog, I’m fast forwarding two months to the moment where I’m sat in my Peruvian apartment having just turned 25 twice in 7 hours. (The condition of my travelling companion, (Perdita- the stuffed Dalmatian) corroborates my sister’s assertion that this makes me ‘old’.) Outside my window is a city ringing with the fart of well used horns, coloured by the 24 hour stationary stores and peopled with enough Peruvian’s to ensure cats don’t take over Kenedy Park.  And somewhere beyond the folds of Lima’s winter duvet, a country as sprawling and diverse as the city that leads it. …

It seems apt that my second quarter century begins with my first ‘grown up’ job, that It’s located in a place where you can surf with Pelican’s promises that the forthcoming 25 years will be just as fun as the last.

Thank-you Paddington.

Thank-you Plymouth.

Bring on Peru.



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