When I have no one to talk to, I end up doing a lot of self-exploration. My first two months of being in Africa, I didn’t have anyone to really converse with. Acquaintances and I would chitchat, if I was lucky to get a word in edgewise, so I thought about my Self, my Life.

I am twenty-three years old. I’ve convinced myself that this is the last age that I’m going to be happy saying out loud. Everything after this is downhill. It doesn’t matter how much I’ve done in my years (though I do try to convince myself otherwise), I’m getting older- and I don’t like it.

My best friend and I decided a couple of years ago that we were happy to be in our twenties, because, simply, teenagers are annoying.

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m scared of growing up because so many grown ups are unhappy. I never, ever see the point in doing things that make you unhappy- but so many people fall into the trap of doing things they hate- because they feel trapped. They hate their jobs, they hate their mate, they hate where they live...

You can change all of these things. You don’t have to keep these elements in your life, but people always do. I don’t understand it.

Maybe in some ways, I’m a control freak. But I don’t think it’s a bad quality to have (all the time). It just means that I’ll always be in control of my happiness. Ah yes… I keep forgetting, I’m not really just me anymore, I’m part of an us. Fitting this into my life is going to be a challenge. Six weeks more, and we’ll be together. Ready, steady, go.

Little Alice is changing before your eyes.