Month: Jul 2022

Drowning in prayers

Because there is no life without the wave. That was it. That’s all. Everything. A greatness that had engulfed her but not suffocated her in its depths, but pushed her to the surface with grace and adoration. Two working together to keep one another flowing. Their time together seemingly short but lasting a lifetime. Relying on each other for their strength and power. The hidden depths don’t frighten her and its power over her is forgotten in that brief but unending moment. Crashing her against the rocks unforgiving and endlessly painful the wave beats her. Its power once overlooked is the death of them both. She would have drowned in the idea, yet ‘the wave’ casts her aside with the other debris. The wave will keep coming back, and she playing in the surf mournfully remembers the time she had wanted to join its deafening silence, the crashing stillness. When it does come back she allows the ice cold thought to embrace her soul again before being thrown against the shore. She knows no other way than this. She could move to calmer waters but hears the call of waves breaking and knows…. only too well…. she will eventually drown in salty tears.

Photo by Dave Watson
Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com

Greenwich on a budget

As you may or may not have gleaned so far, we are fans of budgeting as much as possible. 

Today was no different, so below, you’ll find an example of a day out that did not break the bank and was still thoroughly enjoyable. In fact, I loved every minute!

Now, normally we visit Greenwich, park up in an underground car park which charges £3+ an hour and eat ourselves silly at a nearby chinese restaurant. After patting our stomachs, claiming for the 100th time that we have no idea how we ate as much as we did and then waddling around the grounds of Greenwich University to while away the remaining time on the car park ticket. There may be occasions where we will wander around Greenwich market and chide ourselves once again for not eating at the very many delicious looking food stalls. 

So with being frugal in mind and the aim of seeing more of Greenwich than ever before, we set out this morning at 6:30am! The sun hung in the hazy sky setting the tone of grey for the day. My dress and converse combo sat on the fence of wrong or right outfit choice. The drive into Greenwich is an hour from our home and honestly we love the fact we can drive into this part of London and not be charged by the congestion zone. Be careful though, you may be subject to a charge under the Ultra Low Emissions Zone, so should you fancy following in our tire tracks, check this beforehand. We approach Greenwich along the A12 from Colchester and head under the Thames via the Blackwall Tunnel. I wouldn’t say it is a scenic route by any means, you catch a glimpse of the Olympic Park, O2 arena and Emirates Cable Care, so buckle up and sing to the radio to pass the time. 

Now, tip number one: on a weekend you can park on Charlton Way, SE10 8QY, for free! This road runs along the top of Greenwich park and as long as you get there early enough you will be as close to the park as you’ll ever get without paying for parking. You literally park outside the walls of the park itself. Arriving at 07:45am, we were the tenth car from the gates.

There is something about a walled park that screams Royal London to me and it is mornings like these that make me drag my body out of my beloved bed. That and a meal deal with a caffeine hit! We will often grab a meal deal from our Tesco petrol station to fend off the morning hunger monster and at £3 it cannot be sniffed at!

With this in our bellies and caffeine flooding our veins, we head into the park. Flooding the park’s very own pathed veins were early morning runners and dog walkers. By any standard, lots of dogs running, playing and wagging their tails sets us up for a great day. 

We turned right as we entered the park and head towards Greenwich Park Pond. There aren’t too many signs in the park, but on entry there is a huge map, so click that phone camera to stay on track. The pond is a pleasant walk from the street and as the sun was barely over the surrounding wall, it felt very secluded and as if we were disturbing its morning routine. Baby birds swam on the mirrored surface while fish jumped to catch the early morning bugs. There are two small fountains in the centre of the expanse of water and it created a lovely backdrop of sound to the waking day. A large heron flew above the trees below settling on a branch and settling down for what looked like a nap. Surrounding the pond are very old trees. Chestnut trees whose trunks twist up and spiral towards the sky, pine trees whose low hanging but long branches create a sneaky snug away from the crowds and the mighty oaks all make for a sight you do not expect against the backdrop of Financial London. 

From the pond we made our way across the park to the Rangers House. It is actually located outside the park and you need to exit and follow the wall around to find its front gates. Netflix subscribers may already know this house and I hope that Bridgerton viewers will most definitely recognise this building. Arriving early, we found ourselves the only people clinging to its gates and found out that tomorrow (31st July) they will be filming there for what we can only assume is the next series of Bridgerton! Obviously this is only a guess but there were loads of flowers and shrubs off to the side ready to dress the scene and we all know this adds up to a very safe guess.

Dragging myself away from camping out overnight for a glimpse of those beautiful costumes, we set off across the park once more towards the tree lined avenue that stretches from the entrance gates to the sprawling vista of the London skyline. At 8:30am there were only a handful of people around with their furry companions and the odd tourist leaning against the tall railings of the Royal Observatory and its meridian line. 

Tip two: On the wall surrounding the observatory courtyard is the Shepherd Gate Clock, if you turn right and head around the fences and through the black swing gate you will be able to straddle the meridian line for free. Lots of people pay entrance to the Royal Observatory just to take that Instagram worthy photo not knowing you can do this for free only a few metres away. There are pretty awesome views of the 02 arena from here too! Budget busting eh?

Continue along this walkway until you meet the main road that leads down and through the park. It is much quieter than the middle route that takes you down the narrow and steep path past the Maritime Museum. The tree lined path you find will lead you steadily down the Greenwich slope and out through the beautiful St Mary’s gate. 

You will now be in the electric beating heart of Greenwich. We arrived here at 09:10am and needed a seat to rest our waking bums and coffee to stir our slumbering minds. We stopped in at Grind on Nelson Road and was immediately blown away by the decor. There is an industrial greenhouse vibe that I am absolutely loving right now and we are planning to take pieces of it for one of our bathroom transformations. And the best thing… dogs are allowed! There is a gorgeous bar, large glass enveloped space and an outdoor courtyard where you can sip your delectable coffee under the morning sky. 

Stopping only for coffee, we were involuntarily led to order food by our eyes and drooling mouths when the table opposite us received their food. We ordered buttermilk pancakes with chantilly cream, red fruits and seeds. It felt like a complete indulgence and against our rules of keeping to a small budget so we shared the one dish between us. It was a beautifully light, fresh and zingy treat which we took longer than necessary to eat just to drag out the moment in the beautiful space just that bit longer. Cost of drinks and food: £20 inc service charge. Cost of being spontaneous and doing the happy food wiggle: priceless. Oh and, by now you may need to pee, the toilets here are awesome. I’ve never ever been in a toilet that has a voiceover and David Attenborough at that!

Back on the street we turned towards the vintage market and chose to take an early morning stroll to look at the offerings. I dare say there are items for the more discerning eye which were completely lost on me. But it’s definitely an experience. 

The same can be said for the National Maritime Museum. Tickets are booked online for free which classes this as tip number 3! Booked free or with donation is down to you. We booked free with the idea to donate when there. We took a short hour to wander the halls of this magnificent building. The discerning eye again fled the scene here for me but the world map on the mezzanine level and the huge propeller and the Tarbat Ness light are not to be missed. (We are going to Tarbat Ness Lighthouse in Scotland later this year so that was a serendipitous moment for sure.) There is plenty enough to see in this huge exhibition space and if you have any interest in maritime history I think it is a perfectly well put together space for a great day out. It also helps that all exhibition rooms are air conditioned! Hello from an exceptionally happy girl to a port in the storm that is a British summer time. Just for that I folded a £5 note into the donation box as we left. 

Are you keeping up so far. 

Free parking. 

Wandering a park. 

Cheeky indulgent coffee and treat £20.

World famous museum (free +£5).

It is 11am. Not too shabby eh?

From here, we walked to Greenwich market itself. We regularly visit and never try any of the food and although we were completely game to try what took our fancy, we were not hungry in the slightest! We wandered slowly, glancing around and willing our stomachs to wake to no avail. We bought a very sweet and lemony juice drink from one of the vendors (£3) to inject some bounce back into our step. I could feel the food coma taking over my body and needed its advance to slow. Was it a costly expense? Absolutely. Cheaper than the food we had intended on buying? Absolutely again!

The food stalls range from £5-9 per dish. They come in a range of sizes and are all cooked fresh. The meals on offer here stretch around the globe in their geography and I cursed myself again for not waiting to eat. 

It is a short walk from the market to the grounds of the University and we have paused here many times to watch the world go by. The area is stunning on its own but should you need more than history to whet your appetite you may be amused to know that there have been more than a few hollywood productions filmed right here! Pirates of the Caribbean, Thor, Cruella, Les Miserables and Netflix’s The Crown, to name just a few. It’s not everyday you can walk onto a film set. After you’ve stepped through historical London, backtrack to the river and follow it east until you come across the Trafalgar Tavern. 

This was a new addition to our Greenwich visit today and hidden by the University though it is, I wondered how we ever missed it. Hundreds upon hundreds of flags are strung here and there. Criss crossing between trees shedding their shadows on the cobbles below. It is an awe-inspiring place and with bench seating against the railings of the Thames we are making our way back here as soon as possible. It is also dog friendly here, so we may have to nag a dog for a day-out treat too!

Feeling the burn of the midday sun we started our slow walk back towards the waiting car and its air conditioning. We stopped briefly on the benches at the bottom of the hill. For the first time we sat looking up at the hill rather than down from it. It was sad to look out and see the dusty field that has been starved of moisture by the summer sun. The lush Greenwich green I am used to has all but dried up. I sat hoping for rain to return soon. Behind us the Queens house gleamed in the sunlight and its 200 metre long herbaceous border was an enormous contrast to the rest of the park. Bright greens framed the pinks, whites and purple flowers and I found myself transfixed by the juxtaposition. I may have sat a tad longer than needed as we still had the steep hill to climb that runs below the observatory. 

On my itineraries while working for study abroad I used to give the students 30 minutes to get from Greenwich market to the observatory owing to the walk and slog up that hill. I wondered if my tired feet would meet their match as we took the criss-crossing path across the desert land into the shade of the chestnut trees that lined the pathway. An early autumn was scattered on the ground where the trees had forsaken their crispy and dying leaves. I wondered if we’d experience a merging of seasons until winter. 

So here it was, the beginning of the steep hill. Mr W remarked that he bet it was a bitch to walk in the rain. Although made of pressed pebbles, rain would make it very slick and I was grateful for the summer’s heat. The pathway is almost a right of passage for all visitors to the park and this means it is busy. Going slowly is the only option and for that I am semi-grateful. Too slow and your body does not thank you. From the bottom to the top I timed us at a measly 2 minutes so whilst the heat did not help it is certainly much easier than I imagined. Although most of my imaginings come from others experiences and remarks made online. So take it from a big girl, this is not as scary as you are led to believe!

Now, we did not achieve the chow down we yearned for today, but if you did buy food from the market or bought a budget saving picnic I believe ‘copping a squat’ at a space on the hopefully returned grassy area below the statue of James Wolfe will be the cherry on the cake of a splendid day. Is there anything better than tasty food with a skyline view?

Take your time and drink it all in. The people in the below landscape. The red buses pass here and there. The history. Dogs playing. A good doorstop sandwich and even a cup of tea. With all its English eccentricities I asked myself if the aim of the day was to slip into a Jane Austen novel and wondered if it would be such a bad thing if true. Aiming to be or not the day felt organic and simple. Enough to please the eye and plenty to make the soul happy.

Slowly walking Blackheath Avenue back to the car, I added up the cost of the day. £28. This will cost more if you succumb to the food and the trinkets sold by the traders in the markets. It’ll cost less if you take a picnic. If you take anything away from our travels today, may it be this: you are the writer of your own story. Your budget is yours to make. Your story is not determined by how much something costs nor how many things you see and do. It is defined by how you feel in your heart and mind. It is defined by how the sun feels on your skin and what pulls your eyes across a scene. Money cannot buy the time we spend watching the sun chase the clouds in the sky nor can it replace the time we lose worrying about how much something is going to cost. There are free experiences out there hidden between expense and twinkling lights. They are there for the taking. 

Keep going!

We live in a big house on a council estate. We own our house. It took us two years to save a deposit and a further six years to have finished 80% of the renovations. We have scrimped, saved, learned and upcycled our way through some big DIY projects which include tiling a living room floor, overhauling a garden from a shingle nightmare to a green paradise and installing new walls in the kitchen. We stepped onto the property ladder and have found challenges at each step. Most have been fun, some have been tedious and others have seen me throw massive hissy fits and leave the room to calm down. 

There are memories ingrained in the very fabric of this place that call out to me, even in the short amount of years, this place is special. Our first home.

Without much DIY experience we have found each step so hard, but ultimately really rewarding. Mr W and I take on new projects together and I am so proud of the couple we are. 

We tackle things like tiling for the first time head on and keep each other going. I remember laying a wooden floor 2 months after moving in and thinking it was relatively easy. We started at 9am and after a brief break for tea, we didn’t stop until we finished at 9pm. That is, until Mr W said we needed to do the edging, he cut the small strips of wood while I glued them down. Half way through the job, I hit a snag, the walls were bowed and caused tension on the strips of wood. Once I put my hand on one end, the other would ping out of place. I end up like a freaky yoga goddess covered in glue with one foot reaching out to hold the left end of the strip in place while my hand held the right end in place. And PING it happened again. At 11:30pm, I cracked,  stormed upstairs, slammed the bathroom door behind me and sat in quiet and tired frustration. Ten minutes later, I opened the door and there he was. Sitting on the stairs, waiting for me. No words spoken, just a look to say let’s carry on.  Walking down those stairs felt easier knowing he was leading the way. We ended up finishing the project, hoovering and mopping the floor, moving all of the furniture back into the room and crawling into bed at 1am. The next day, the frustrations lifted as we came downstairs to the morning light flooding the floor for our first glance at our hard work. 

When visiting Pollensa, Majorca in 2019, we decided to stroll around the town and lose a few hours. And then, around a corner there appeared the Calvari Steps. All 365 of them. My flip flop wearing feet were feeling ambitious and my brain thought it knew better. The staircase is absolutely stunning. Lined by trees and hidden residences you don’t know until you reach the very top what is on offer to the achievers of the climb. After climbing up one third in flip flops, I decided the shiny, worn stone was too slippery for my meagre footwear and I took them off. The October sun warmed the stones enough that it was pleasant and did not burn my feet. As Mr W and I continued our walk, we took it slow and watched as other people passed us, glancing at my lack of footwear. I laughed at the thought that I looked like a pilgrim on some religious mission. Every so often, there would be a brief break in the stone strings of the stairs and we could step away into the trees and appreciate how far we had come. 365 stairs are by no means a vast number considering other staircases of the world but this place felt peaceful, unexpected and tiring all at once. Being unprepared footwear wise had made it more of a challenge, but adapting came easy. Mr W had gone from walking beside me to hold my hand to stop me from slipping, to staying beside me to take it all in. Just a few steps from the top, a man in a crisp shirt and hat sat in the shade playing his guitar. The music was soft and euphonic. It felt like we were on a film set, where was the director shouting ‘Action’? You don’t believe that scenes like that happen in real life. Once at the top we were greeted with the smallest church I have had the pleasure of stepping foot in and the single most sweeping view of the Majorcan landscape I am yet to see. The journey was hard, enlightening and I realised on our descent, my calves were going to thank me later! 

Today, I don’t feel the pain, I only have snapshots in my memory of a spontaneous moment that not only led somewhere beautiful but felt like a really special journey itself. 

Today, I felt really unhappy. We are in week one of the school holidays here in the UK and that means kids. A LOT of kids. I used to love seeing them out and about on our community green because all you hear today is how kids are glued to tvs, phones and iPads. And yet there they were, outside playing and laughing. Lately the scene has soured and there is litter everywhere, broken toys and various degrees of destruction taking place. It makes me want to close the blinds, play exceptionally loud music and pretend we have airlifted our home to a secluded area. I feel so sad because we take great pride in our home and have done since we moved in and when it comes to visitors the mess outside is the first thing they see. It feels like it’s a misrepresentation of us. It is embarrassing. I have tried hard over the years to ignore, ask for help and look at the bigger picture when I feel particularly stressed. Sometimes it works, sometimes, like today, it doesn’t. 

We have made the choice to move. There are several reasons and the above is one of them. Does it make living here today easier? Absolutely not. This house is my second ever home. Our first home as a couple. We grew here as a couple. Apart in the first year of stress. Together again as we prepared for our wedding. We became man and wife here. The walls here echo with the family who we have lost. The air still rings with laughter at private jokes and family game nights. 

Moving is a fair few years off yet. Do I feel forced out? Yes and no, if I were mentally stronger, I think living here wouldn’t bother me as much as it does but I also know there are other factors we aren’t happy with which means moving is the only option. Each step of accepting this being our future is hard. It feels like the staircase in Pollensa. By stripping it back, take all the feeling out of it leaving only logic. Clothing myself in the necessary memories and the fabric of our time here is making me slip on our decision. Sometimes, I can step aside and see this place for what it is, a beautiful singular chapter in our story.

I imagine over time, it will get easier to accept. 

It hurts now, like the first time DIY projects and the Spanish staircase did. Once it is over the pain will only be a memory, and thankfully it’ll be in a sea of memories that are absolutely stunning. Today, and the other difficult days like it, are part of a journey to something beautiful and unexpected. 

How long will summer last?

Out walking the other day I overtook an elderly lady on the pavement. Maybe it was my imagination but I thought I saw her shaking her head. I didn’t nudge her or hit her with my bag. I wasn’t speeding around but was obviously a tad faster than her with my feet. I got to thinking about how we tend to speed ahead in life. Is it because we are so eager to reach our futures? In that respect, did she shake her head because in her life she no longer feels the need to rush around? As we humans reach the autumns of our lives, do we tend to look back fondly on our summer years and wonder what the winter years will bring?

On the flipside was she shaking her head because I wasn’t enjoying the present? A gloriously hot sunny day with a cool breeze in the midst of a calm summer week and I’m not feeling it. I’m just passing through. My young skin was a massive contrast to hers, covered in a day’s make-up and my face etched with the thoughts of plans for the weekend; the sun lit up the paths of her past on her face as she soaked up the sun. Slow and steadily. 

Am I right? Do I place too much emphasis on the future? Should I slow down and enjoy the sun while I’m still in my summer? Even now, my thoughts are fast forwarding to our trip in 7 weeks, as if it is a beacon shining amongst the monotony of the every day. I wonder if I wait too long for my future and that I’m going to miss out on opportunities in my present. In my winter years I’m not going to want to waste my days idly thinking about passing on and what is beyond, I want to be walking in the glow of my past and present. And in the very naked reality of it all, how do we know when we are in our winter years? At 34, one would hope I’m emerging from the spring of my life and blossoming for a long summer, but we don’t know when our own personal autumn starts. I could have my winter smack me in the fast form of a bus on my next walk.

I think what my fastforwarding mind is wrapping its mentality around is this: let your summer enrich you while you are here. Whether you are in your winter days or not, the sun still shines in memories and nourishes who you are and will forever be. If you give in to the sun it will highlight the footsteps you have made and are yet still to make. Don’t let the cold in. Let it warm you to your fingertips so you can reach out and touch other people’s lives. Burn your nose to make others laugh. Warm your heart to share with everyone around you.

Share your summers, past and present, for a stunningly bright future.

Photo by Dave Watson
Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com

Broken/Beautiful

‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’.

Doesn’t it rely on an individual’s definition of broken? Or even their care of something being broken? Their care of it being fixed?

Splinters irritate and cause pain but ultimately you can’t fix the wood, mould it back to what it used to be. Take the splinter, pair it with another, and another, press them together to form what it once was, no. Really, the wood was broken long ago, cut down from its leafy reachings, chopped, bleached and not seen or looked at in the same way again. It is broken to suit others needs.

You have the people that will watch a tree grow, its branches bloom and its roots grow deep. Others cut it down in its prime, never seeing its true potential. After all, if you cut down a tree that’s the end; you have the underlying memories that linger and die underground, the chunks of its past life thrown away and its tiny reminder left at its base. One look at the potential and you’ll see that it will weather any storm because it won’t give up its fight for survival. It bends and adapts to its harsh environment; it knows no other way than this.

However, one day, the storm will be too much, the branches will break, its leaves will die and no flowers will see the sun. The fight is over. The clouds hover above the carcass that can’t be fixed, can’t be put back together and be what it used to be.

But if you are lucky someone someday will see new potential, carve something beautiful out of the destroyed wood and save what once was, preserving its beauty forever.

Like I said if you are broken, others may not care, they may in fact be the ones that broke you but out there the one person that sees you grow from sapling to sky-reaching tree will help you shape life again. They will give you your roots back.

Photo by Dave Watson
Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com

The important truth

The moment you place your self worth in the hands of others is the moment you fail.

Harsh isn’t it?

I’ve done it all my life. I’ve regarded myself as important as long as someone else thinks I am. It feels good to be loved, wanted and needed. But the harsh truth of the matter is, as soon as all that goes away, even for a moment, what is left?

You help someone move homes out of the kindness of your heart, it’s natural to want to help someone else. And soon after along with the empty boxes that person drops off your radar. You find yourself running around after them, texting, calling, asking when you can meet up. Are they doing the same thing? Do you have any messages they’ve sent and you’ve not replied to? Any missed calls? Are they chasing you?

You welcome a new family member into the fold, a relative’s new partner, it’s only natural for families to expand over time. They are lovely. You are two couples who gel well and talk for hours. You are glad because you would have missed the relative if you weren’t a part of their new life. And yet you find yourself embarrassed and confused when your asking to meet up is met with a constant stream of excuses and delays. After a while, you start to ask yourself, have I done something wrong? Was I the only one wanting to continue being a family?

You graduate university. You dragged yourself through it, you did not quit and got your diploma. You started because you weren’t sure which path to take, but as time went on, you wanted to feel the flush of accomplishment. To have achieved something just for you. If it leads to a job where it is useful, great, if not, it is still an accomplishment. So why now, when someone says you are wasting your degree, does it knock you for six? What right of theirs is it to make a judgement or any kind of assumption about your life choices? And WHY does it hurt so much when their feelings are impressed upon you?

I’ll never understand the harsh words or actions of others. And truth be told, I think it’s because I couldn’t treat others that way. Couldn’t is probably the wrong word. The word ‘couldn’t’ implies a choice is made. Like a fork in the road. Standing there deciding whether to take the left fork where you ‘could’ be rude or the right fork where you ‘couldn’t. I don’t think it’s a decision at all. I think it’s simply knowing right from wrong and subconsciously knowing what to do. Ultimately it is the lack of understanding of why someone treats you poorly that sets us apart. If, for one minute we understood, you may say we are giving them free reign and excuses for their actions. 

The truth is there are users in this world and then there are the oblivious folk. It’s hard to tell the difference between the two unless you actually approach them and say that what they did has affected you. I’d like to think in most cases this will be met with a desire to talk through things like adults and reach a common ground for moving forward. 

Other times, it might come to creating boundaries. 

Those that take the piss? In future, say no. Your time on this planet and your life is ticking away. You get no do overs, no time back and certainly shouldn’t feel bad more than you feel good. Do I think these people are sitting at home unhappy like I am? OH GOD NO! They are either oblivious to the fact or know exactly what they are doing and still don’t care. 

Those that don’t answer? Are not worth your time. Again, your time is ticking away and it is precious. For all the minutes you spend trying to get someone else’s attention and love is better off spent making your life worthwhile. Chase something that makes you happy and not sad. Life is fleeting. 

Those who judge your choices? To make choices in the first place took a lot of guts. You made it for you. And no one else. Again, you could question their choices, pluck apart their life and see what you find ‘wrong’ with it. But you aren’t that kind of person, who are you to judge or question. So spend the time you aren’t judging others and spend it in the pool on a hot summer day, singing to Disney songs on a road trip and with people who accept you for you. 

Placing your importance in another’s hands will always be hard to avoid, afterall we love to share our lives and in doing so opinions will be generated by those around us. It feels good to please people with your life story. Whether it is to celebrate or impress is really down to the individual. However you look at it, the need to feel love and acceptance is overwhelming. No matter how you look at it, when you are constantly pleasing people you may start to realise that the person who is no longer pleased is you. When you are constantly on the ‘pleasing others’ path in life you’ll be making choices based on what is right for everyone else. What would others do? How would others act? You fall behind on what you want. Just whose life are you living?

Guess what, it is yours! You are important because this life is yours. You are important because of your kindness, your choices, the way you love unconditionally and you are important enough to know when to instigate a boundary. 

Stop the ‘begging’ calls. 

Stop the 3rd ‘follow-up’ texts. 

STOP letting peoples opinions rule your head.

It hurts, I know. 

If you don’t chase, you might not see them again. 

If you don’t send that text, you might not hear from them again. 

If you ask someone to keep their opinions to themselves, they may not respect it. 

Yes it is all very painful, but the truth is, the important truth, why would you want those people in your life to begin with? What are they adding to your life? Because right now, they are taking away from it. 

It doesn’t mean you have to cut them out or block them in all forms of social interactions. The boundary is within. They have the parts of you that you allow. A ‘hi’ at a family BBQ, a wave at a birthday party and a ‘cheers’ at Christmas. Maybe even a boogie at the next wedding, but primarily you say when, why and if. When you take that power back, their actions can know longer affect your feelings of self-importance. 

And that’s the important truth.  

Photo by Dave Watson
Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com

The world’s best friend

When we were young we would fall out with our friends over the slightest thing. She took the last jelly tot. He splashed you with a puddle. They didn’t include you in the game of hopscotch. We are fickle beings. We see the bad before treasuring the good.

As we grow older the jelly tot arguments turn more sour. She chose to see her other friends. He cheated. They spoke behind your back. We are fickle creatures. We see the bad before treasuring the good.

When we are old the jelly tot arguments turn to mould. She left me behind. He broke my heart. They were right. We are fickle beasts. We see the bad before treasuring the good.

The thing is you shared those jelly tots with the girl who introduced you to friendship. You welcomed the guy into your life who taught you to love and how to pick yourself up and look for love again because of how it made you feel. They spoke behind your back and it’s just what you needed to put up with less shit in your life. You saw the bad before treasuring the good.

In life a friend will come that won’t ask anything from you, will sit by you whether you’ve spared a kind word or not, will forget when you have yelled because they are making too much noise and will bound towards the door every day for 5 years because they thought you weren’t coming back again.

They will pull you forward despite the beating sun, the long spiky grass, the torrential rain.

They race up and down the stairs like a loony to make you laugh when you introduce your new boyfriend to the family.

They eat any unoccupied food when you’re not looking. They know they shouldn’t but it just smells so damn good. 

They never bite or growl, wimper or leave your side.

They are the world’s companion. They are your best friends.

They are the good that you treasure.

Photo by Dave Watson
Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com

Itinerary: 3 days in Venice

Now, I don’t like to blow my own horn. But, this itinerary was just everything in Venice. It gave us enough timing to get to places and it packed just enough in that we felt relaxed but accomplished in what we had seen. As it was our first time in Venice, and it being in September 2020, I felt we needed lots of outdoor activities and lots of guidance. 

I can tell you now, it worked like a charm, and as we tacked it on to the end of the trip to Florence, some sort of ‘we may as well, seeing as we are so close’, it was simply amazing. Would I go back to Florence? Yeah, sure. Would I go back to Venice, in a freaking heartbeat! This place transformed my whole perception. Is it a tourist trap? Yes, but does that make it any less fabulous? Absolutely not. I cannot imagine my life without returning to Venice. 

Top tip – I was really nervous about getting around the city. So many people online will tell you the joy of this place is getting lost and enjoying it all the more. The truth is, on our next visit, I’d like to do this, because every building, bridge and street is just beautiful. But on this trip, we had timed entrances and the need to see as much as possible. Early on we found google maps to be the very best app to use to navigate, it got it right at every step and Mr W made the perfect leader.

We took the train from Florence, Santa Maria Novella Station to Venice, Santa Lucia Station. It is the last stop on the line and takes your right into the lagoon across the Ponte delle Libertà. Rumoured to be one of the most beautiful train journeys in ITaly, we found it a very fog-filled morning and left quite unenthused. 

Should you be arriving into Venice from the airport there are a range of transport options. You can pre-book a coach which takes you to Piazzale Roma which is a short walk from Fondamenta Santa Maria where you can jump on a Vaporetto. I’ll link the timetables and routes for the Vaporetto below. This is by far the most budget friendly route into the city. 

Then there is the Alilaguna, the water airport coach to the city. We didn’t have the pleasure, but I know it takes up to 70 minutes and again is a budget option of transport. 

Lastly, there are the private transfers which can cost upwards of £50 per person. Some of these companies will pick you up at your hotel so are more accommodating luggage wise, however glamorous this option is, price wise I find it absolutely insane. For the sake of you being able to tell your friends and family that you did it I’m not sure it’s worth the cost. However, I am a big believer in doing what you want on your travels to make that trip amazing and if this is how you’ve always dreamed of arriving into the city and it won’t break the bank I say go for it. Please do not feel the pressure of ticking off every box when you travel and putting yourself into debt. Travel is so much more than how much money you spend, it is how it makes you feel. 

We were exceptionally lucky to check into our hotel 2 hours before check in so after alighting at San Zacharia, we threw our bags into our room and headed back into the city. We backpacked throughout this whole trip so it wouldn’t have been an issue if we hadn’t been able to check in. The itinerary makes the most of time between check in and out and transport/flight times so if you have luggage and don’t fancy wheeling it around all day you  may want to adjust activities or ask your hotel to secure it while you are out. The many, many bridges of Venice may give you more trouble rolling suitcases around!

Below is our exact itinerary. 

Links:

https://gb.trenitalia.it-inter.com/

If you choose to travel to Venice from within Italy from another city, this is the website I used for our train tickets. It was definitely cheaper than trainline.com. Sometimes there isn’t a big difference in price. Sometimes it’s the admin fee on trainline as they buy their tickets from these guys. So it’s definitely worth checking out both. 

https://www.getyourguide.com/venice-l35/actv-ticket-public-transportation-in-venice-t64625/?partner=tr

This is the website I used for our vaporetto tickets. It was super easy to navigate and had lots of different options for duration etc. You can download the voucher to your phone, so it is sustainable!

https://www.dfs.com/t-fondaco/rooftop-terrace-booking/booking/terrace_venice_en.html

Book here for one of the very best views of the Grand canal. It’s free but imperative to pre-book. Slots fill up fast!

https://www.venetoinside.com/attraction-tickets-in-veneto/tickets/scala-contarini-del-bovolo/

Not to be missed, this was the friendliest company to deal with and the website was easy peasey!

https://www.venetoinside.com/attraction-tickets-in-veneto/tickets/st-marks-bell-tower-skip-the-line-entry/

Absolutely ESSENTIAL visit while in Venice. The famous St Mark’s bell tower. Book your tickets for opening for a very quiet time at the top of this world renowned attraction.

https://www.getyourguide.co.uk/venice-l35/atvo-express-bus-marco-polo-airport-venice-ple-roma-t72728/?partner_id=C2O0ZY3&cmp=venmittebusneuen&utm_force=0

Should you get the bus to the airport, this is where we got our tickets. The coach itself had about 8 people on it, so felt great in a time of panic during covid 2020. It was really comfortable and so much faster than I originally thought it would be. 

www.booking.com

Accommodation in Venice is really easy to find but so hard to know where to stay. We stayed at the Hotel Commercio & Pellegrino. It was a very short 5 minute walk to St Mark’s Square and is found just off of the Riva Degli Schiavoni, one of the most famous promenades in the city. None of the links I provide in this piece are sponsored or an ad, I just believe my research and time can help others and I recommend this place based on location, beautiful traditionally furnished rooms, their really tasty continental breakfast and wonderfully friendly staff. We had to re-book our trip due to covid and this could not have been handled better by Valentina. We spoke numerous times on the phone and just for that fact I would go back here again to stay. I truly believe we found a gem here, being budget conscious I really hunted around for the best price and it turns out this place was second to none for location too! 

So there is Venice. Again, I’ve tweaked it slightly from our itinerary because we had some visits that are personal to us and would not make much sense to others. 

As promised I’ll soon add our Venice itinerary. That one did not change much at all. The links below are for the blogs where I discuss the trip to Venice in full detail. There are other blogs on our trip to Florence linked below too should you wish to extend your trip. Take note, the train journey was so easy and even though we’d never done anything like that before it has definitely made me realise that staying in one location is overrated! Get out there and explore!

Ciao!

Stories of Venice – Part one
Stories of Venice – Part two
Stories of Venice part three
A piece of Pisa
Faith in Florence
Food and fretting in Florence
Hot chocolate in the clouds
Final frolics in Florence
Itinerary: A long weekend in Florence

A sweat shop in New York

Dragging Mr W into another clothing store, I laughed at the groan escaping his mouth. ‘Come on, I love this store.’ Bargain hunting in Soho, Manhattan was the game of the day. Strolling around was just as fun in the Winter sunshine. How could it not be? We were in my favourite place in the entire world, and Mr W had proposed just days earlier.

Bemused at his groans, I knew the next store would make him happy. I had no idea exactly how much. Walking into the store it became very clear it was closing down. I was a lover of the store myself and I was gobsmacked. Big banners were strewn around the place with big letters spelling ‘CLOSING DOWN SALE’. ‘EVERYTHING MUST GO’.

No. No. No!

And then Mr W’s face lit up.

The sale was incredible. T-shirts that normally cost $30+ were now $5. Hooded jumpers were $10 down from $50+. Hats, shoes. Bargains. Bargains. Bargains! Mr W was in his element. We left with two huge paper shopping bags full of goodies. I remember standing out on the sidewalk watching him glow in the aftermath of the shopping frenzy. It’s an image that lives happily in my memory.

He never spends money on himself. In fact, he’d rather stitch up a battered pair of jeans than buy himself new ones. He has boxers that are older than our relationship and even now, nearly 7 years later, he still has the clothes he bought that day in Soho. The funny thing is he will always try and get the best deals for himself and stretch the lifetime of a pair of socks and yet walking past a shoe store he’ll ask if I fancy a pair. It’s insane.

Back to New York. After his shopping spree, we both jumped in a cab with his purchases and headed back to our hotel. Later on that afternoon, we walked to W43rd and 12th Avenue and took a trip on one of the Circle Line boats around the island of Manhattan. As the light faded in the early evening, we saw the city lights come to life. I braved the decreasing temperatures and stood on the outside deck to get some photos. The Freedom tower/One World Trade Center glittering in the night sky. It was phenomenally beautiful. I kept turning to usher Mr W outside, but even with his arctic winter coat on, he stayed put.

I have viewed the island of Manhattan from the water half a dozen times and it never ceases to amaze me how happy one place can make me. After touring the island and passing under the Brooklyn Bridge, our boat turned, repeated its path and sailed north up the Hudson river. We glimpsed the Empire state building, lit up for the night, and docked, cold and excited for the evening ahead.

Due to December’s early sunsets, the boat had sailed at 4 o’clock which meant we were back on 12th Avenue by 6:30pm. More time left for us in the evening and therefore more opportunities to see places. We took a slow stroll to Times Square. It is about a 20 minute walk through midtown-west and reasonably quiet until you are right in the thick of it. Night was truly setting in and the chills that came with it were very real.

We meandered through the crowds until we came to the Swatch shop. Lighting up the sidewalk on Times Square amongst all the LED billboards is an incredible feat and this store had managed it. In stark contrast to the bright reds, blues, yellows and greens around it, this store was starkly bright white. The walls were made up of lightboxes. Overhead were exceptionally strong lamps. The floor was white and therefore exceptionally reflective. It shone like a beacon. I wouldn’t be surprised if all the moths of America called it their church.

Not a huge fan of browsing I spent some time checking out various watches before I saw Mr W pause at one particular stand. In his nonchalant way he said, ‘That’s nice’, and went to walk away. I pulled him back and said that I still hadn’t got him a Christmas present, what If I bought it? He said no, but our pausing at the stand had set off an alarm in a sales woman’s mind, and she rushed to our side. I told her I was interested in the watch and she went to get one for us to look at. When she returned she offered to fasten it to his wrist. He kept shaking his head until eventually I persuaded him to slip it on. I remember thinking, why does he always do this? It’s a gift, it’s something he likes, surely it can’t be a bad thing? Did he realise how hot this small, lightbox was? Let’s buy the watch and get out into the fresh, cool night.

Hallelujah, our purchase in its fancy box and bag, we stepped into the cacophony of sounds, lights and smells. The nighttime was upon us and it was time to head back to the hotel. In true fashion, we found it hard to get a cab and so walked the 6 blocks back slowly.

When we reached our room, I remember seeing Mr W removing his coat with his back turned to me. He was muttering about how hot he had been. Since the boat, his coat had been zipped up halfway against the Winter weather and he could finally remove it. The scene plays out in my mind frequently. He unzipped the coat and slipped it off his shoulders, over his arms, wrists and hands and slung it on the bed. I remember seeing his new mid-grey t-shirt from his happy shopping spree covering his broad shoulders. As he turned, his eyes connected with mine, before I burst out laughing. On his chest, starting at the collar, two dividing lines of colour were drawn down his body at an angle creating a large V. The inside of the V was a very light grey colour. Below and surrounding this was the mid-grey colour I had seen on his back. The poor bugger had melted inside his arctic coat. The sweat had changed every inch of the light grey shirt that was not exposed to air into the deeper grey.

After I stopped laughing, he started to say that he had felt hot walking around in his coat, and when we went into the Swatch shop it had only ramped up the heat inside his coat. The coat had elasticated cuffs and therefore when the sales woman had offered to help him put the watch on all he could do was point blank refuse. He said something like ‘I had a river of sweat on my wrist, no way could she touch me.’ I fell about laughing.

That night he had to dry the shirt on the radiator ready to pack for our flight home the next day. Even now, when he wears it or I wash it, I smile. It is a memory of when he was extremely warm and courteous that keeps me warm and smiley.

Imposter, post 101

Imposter syndrome used to confuse me. 

Not that I didn’t understand it. I had just never heard of it before. 

It affects people who have a clear ability to do something and yet doubt it at every step and find it hard to accept accomplishments and accolades. 

I used to think it was a confidence issue or an inability to accept compliments. But recently, I started to see it as both. When it used to come to my writing, I would do it for me. Something to put my thoughts down and out of my head. It was mostly gibberish that could not be wholly understood by others reading it. A spew of consciousness flooding the page before you like a spilled glass of water. 

Today, there is still the occasional spew, but more often than not I talk about my life. I talk about living with PCOS, home life and a majority of the time travel. How can it be hard when you talk about something that is such a large part of your very being? 

I suppose in a way, talking to you about PCOS is a form of therapy, it is definitely cheaper. I also like to think that in a way it is spreading awareness and in turn that awareness will make society more accepting of women like me. I hope in time that someone who looks like me and has fertility struggles won’t feel so alone. I hope that those who read my PCOS blogs who live with the condition themselves will find a friend and those learning about it for the first time will be able to understand the woman in the corner of the room who shies away from prying eyes. 

Then there are the days when I give you the ultimate treat of discussing our lives and the very interesting things that happen to us. Including but obviously not limited to a deflating pool, buying tinned food and the very real saga of why owning a house has its pitfalls! Intriguing, no?

And then, there are the travelling bits. The reason my stomach flips and what makes me so very happy. I’ve been compiling itineraries for over 16 years, over half of my life, fucking hell, lets speed past that little fact… And it brings me joy like nothing else. I worked in my ideal job for over 2.5 years doing just that and I think I have a knack for it. And I am constantly told, you should do this for a living. Welcome to the stage the Imposter Syndrome. He’s here to point out why you can’t do it. HE’s here to drag your accomplishments through the dirt. He’s here to muffle all the voices of the people who have said they love your writing and how much they love tucking themselves into bed at 10pm just to settle down with your blog. 

Yesterday, I posted my 100th blog. Look at me! I’ve had 3238 views and 1987 visitors to my site. On July 18th I reached a new high of 170 views in a single day. I often find myself refreshing the statistics page of my blog app because it doesn’t feel real. Sometimes I wonder if it is the need for validation to shut up the Imposter guy but lately he doesn’t sound as loud. In the beginning, I kept my writing all very hush hush and other than sitting at a table in front of some family members when the time to write is upon me, it is very much a behind closed doors activity. Although, lately it has been a very late night, laptop on the bed with the lamp on, annoying Mr W to no end kind of activity, but let us forget about that for a minute. I don’t like the idea of sitting in front of people and typing away, it feels like those writers you see in Starbucks writing the next great American novel. Too flashy for me. I also find I don’t like discussing my blog. If I don’t discuss it I don’t have to hear negative comments or the ‘what if you said it in this way’. It’s like I feel the need to change my voice. And in all honesty it’s taken me a few years to recognise the voice I have and realise that I don’t want to change it. 

Recently, I’ve had the most wonderful comments about how I should write a book. How my travel pieces are transporting people from their sofas to a Piazza in Italy or a hiking trail in Northumberland. I sit their mouth tightly closed because I simply do not know what to say. There will be a little nervous laugh, some kind of look to Mr W and a response like ‘oh no I could never do that’. And the truth is, I don’t know if I could do it. Not from a writing perspective, my writing comes from my brain like a stream. I hardly stop to think. If I think about what to write too much it becomes so involved and pompous I’ll CTRL-A and delete that crap despite the time spent on it. I just can’t do it. It doesn’t feel like me talking. I’m very aware right now that the CTRL-A may be lost on some of you, but I am also aware that’s how I wanted to explain it and I’m the only one to please. Selfish? No. Staying me, only slightly, yes. 

Maybe I will write a book one day, it’s not the writing that scares me. It’s the idea I need to have to write it. Everything I write about here is real. It has happened. In real life, past, present or near future. I’ll discuss plans and ideas. Who wants to read that in a book? I sometimes think that’s the point, write something that shouldn’t work and just maybe it will. 

I sit here, smiling, how on earth did I get to 100 blogs? When I started Mr W said it would be great. And I didn’t listen, I was just stubborn enough to aim to write every day for a year. To set myself the challenge. Maybe now, the tack on to the challenge is to start believing that the imposter guy is wrong. That when someone shares one of my blog posts it’s because it resonated. I didn’t know they had done it, I don’t  know this person from Adam, but they did it and it was the best feeling. Something I wrote spoke to them. They owed me nothing. They don’t even know who I am. That’s often the thought that conflicts with the voice in my head. That when people bring up my writing they are doing it to be kind. Lately I’ve come to realise that mentioning it at all means something, surely if they didn’t like it, if it didn’t mean anything to them, they would keep quiet?

That’s the voice who needs to win this battle against the Imposter guy. 

I suppose it’s determined by who can shout louder on any given day.

For now, here is to blog 101. In all it’s determined glory!

Photo by Dave Watson

Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com