
If you asked me, I would deny that I enjoyed travelling. I would tell you that the anxiety is far too much for me. I would swear that I like the comfort of my own bed too much to possibly go anywhere.
But somewhere over the last few years, the years where my wife has dragged me all over the world, that has stopped being the case.
Now, I guess I could say I am a less reluctant traveller. As long as I have a good book at my side, I can cope with stepping outside my front door with a bit more ease.







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