When I'm tapping away at a keyboard in a cubicle at work, counting the hours until it's time to leave, I picture travelling as a perfect way of living. I think about how fantastic it is to be peripatetic and without a care in the world, footloose and fancy-free - as my friend Sal used to say. I remember how great it is to meet new and interesting people every day and see and learn about different things all the time.

And it is brilliant, it really is.

It's just that after travelling for a while, there are things you get tired of. Namely: being woken up in dorm rooms by people switching lights on or rustling ubiquitous plastic bags; the hated grubby backpack stuffed with the same shabby clothes you've been wearing since you started out; the skanky shared bathrooms; the constant moving on. It's pretty tedious sometimes to arrive in a new place, not knowing anybody or where anything is, traipsing out in the rain to find a supermarket but unable to buy anything substantial as you're leaving in a couple of days, and after hauling your purchases back to the hostel, finding the shared kitchen is dirty and full of people. It's tough when you have a really good time with people but then go your separate ways.

Travelling around is an intense way of living: you have new experiences each day rather than the usual routine. You can't sleepwalk through life and coast the way you sometimes can with a job and home and established friendships, where the weeks can fly by and you seem to have been busy but haven't done anything out of the ordinary. When you're on the move, you always have to be thinking: where am I going to sleep tonight? What will I do tomorrow? Where am I heading to next? The constant moving on and impermanence can be really draining, and sometimes I feel like I just want to have some space to myself and some stuff that I don't have to lug around on my back.

Having had my moan and complained about all this, I still wake up every morning thankful that I'm not at work, that I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, and that I'm really lucky to be doing this. I guess it's just that even something wonderful can become a drag occasionally, and that however far you go and whatever you do, you're still fundamentally the same person with the same tendencies and irritations.

Grumble over. And out.