A Mr Bean Moment

A 6 hour wait for a bus to the university sounded like a horror of a last leg in my trip back to Greece. 

As I stepped out of the taxi from the airport, the countdown of hours begun. With my mind empty of ideas about where to go and what to do and full of anxiety about the bus tickets being sold out (I couldn't book one online), the long journey ahead of me commenced. 

Will I be fortunate enough to get a space on the bus or will I be forced to spend a fortune on a taxi back to Ioannina? 

All this worry was swiftly postponed by the sighting of a quiet beach. Turning the corner at the edge of the harbour, a clean patch of golden sand called my name. Strewn with seaweed and frosted with salt blown off the top of the waves, it was the perfect spot to pass time. 

I immediately committed to the walk of shame onto the sand. Hold luggage, handbag and shoes in hand, I hobbled off the path towards the water. Jeans rolled up and equipped with much more baggage than the typical beach-goer, I was Mr Bean. An eyesore. Or maybe I was the feature of a holiday advert. This morning my suitcase was planted firmly in Kentish soil, now its fragile wheels sunk into the sand, burdened by the weight of summer clothing. 

The feeling of shame and embarrassment could never stand a chance of holding me back.