the trip that never was...

I cannot even begin to describe how I'm feeling just now.

Something I think which is a turmoil of anger (mainly at myself), disappointment (mainly in myself), disbelief (at my own stupidness), guilt at having let everyone else down, and something resembling an air of defeat.

I had been looking forward to this for so long.  I did some research into the destination, had everything sorted in plenty of time and even looked up a few Italian phases to be armed with.
Having packed and readied myself for the trip, I got to bed at a reasonable hour and set both my phone alarm and my bedside alarm for the unearthly hour of 3:45.  I didn't sleep for a while.  My brian was too busy whirring round with arrangements, connections, and thoughts of the place we were visiting.  My flatmate was going in and out of the kitchen, banging the door.  About midnight I decided enough was enough, and put some earplugs in, in the hope of getting some sleep, and knowing full well that I had two alarms set, and that I was easily awoken, on most days, by at least one of them, even with the things in.  So, I'm sure you have guessed by now what happened.  I woke up, having slept like a baby through BOTH alarms, and panicked.  Several phone calls, and much (unsuccessful, though I probably don't need to say that) internet-flight-surfing later, and I'm still here.  Feeling like a complete and utter eejit.

I suppose it's not the end of the world.  I suppose we all feel like failures from time to time, but we just have to learn to grit our teeth and 'carry on', and learn from our mistakes...  At least I can console myself with the fact that other people have made far greater mistakes in the past...
Maybe it was providential that I didn't go?  Who knows?  But one thing is for certain: I'm not going anywhere, at least for the next couple of days, anyway....