Month: Jul 2022

All part of the narrative

If you have read my last few blogs you may have seen how excited I’ve been to set up our pool for the summer. We are yet to use it properly and with the impending heat wave of doom it feels like we are halfway to actually surviving it. 

The thing is, when you own your very own property things can change really quickly. Obviously I don’t think there is a curse placed on mortgage payers, but it can be a kick in the gut (and wallet) when something unforeseen happens. Usually for us its technology, last year we had a 6 month struggle with our boiler. 6 months prior to that, our dishwasher upped and fucked off due to a internal complication I think it made up quite personally. 12 months previously to that, our fridge freezer decided it wanted to shuffle off its mortal coils. And fun stuff like that seems to happen a lot when you have zero back up plan and really would like to have some savings building up. This week, our cat decided to check out our pool and punctured its air-filled dreaminess. Mr W and I have spent all of 30 minutes in its cool depths, all of those in the shade. Frustrated is not the word. We are yet to find the tiny hole that is deflating our hopes and dreams. 

The problem with owning a house is there’s no landlord or council that has a duty of care and maintenance to come and fix said items. I mean, if you rent and burst your swimming pool and Landlord Larry will fix it for you, well quite frankly, when can I move in? 

It’s a delicate line to tread when owning your home. On one side there’s the fear of something breaking and checking the sofa for coins to fix the problem. The constant cycle of decorating and learning about electrics and plumbing and a whole host of DIY skills. We had a flood during the lockdown of 2020 because the pump for the electric shower decided it needed a laugh. The flood rained down through a newly installed ceiling and we haven’t been able to fix the pump whatsoever. It sits waiting for the next big project. If I had decided to kick the pump around the garden like a football I’d understand. If I had run the dishwasher for 24 hours straight for a month I’d understand. But technology truly has a mind of its own. 

The pool however, did not decide to deflate. Our ginger Tom saw to that. He is like a moth to a flame when it comes to water. He likes it colder than cold, fresher than fresh and will nick your tea or wine if unattended. The boy is a liquid lusting whore. I could scream and shout, I actually want to, but I learned years ago that our animal friends, our pets, companions, and family are a blessing. If he had sat on that decking, drawn out a claw and run it down the plastic much like someone would key a car, then I’d be having words. However the simple fact is, he wanted water, he went for it. It is his quirk. Much like our other cat’s quirk is to want attention just as you are falling asleep or the other’s is to claw his way up your leg to say hello. Much like Sylvester Stallone in ‘Cliffhanger’. They don’t do it to annoy us. Nor to irritate or make angry. It’s just them. 

I have lost patience with previous animal loves and you can’t take it back. I regret how I used to tell off our dog about peeing in the home. She wasn’t well and I wish I had been kinder. I used to get exasperated about the mess. But the truth is, I’d do it all over again for more time with her. The same goes for our black moggy who we lost in 2019. She would scream at me from the kitchen counter for food. All day she’d cry. And I would cry back at her. ‘Yes, yes, in a minute.’ What I would give to hear those sounds again. What I’d give to have learnt more patience back then. But now, I live with those lessons and what it has taught me. 

The truth is, I let our cats get away with murder, they are pampered beyond belief and I think thats because they’ll never understand just how much they mean to us so I find other ways to make sure they know. They’ve been there every single day during lockdown. They give me cuddles on my bad days. They give me a reason to get up. They’re true companions. 

So when one yaks up on the floor, I’ll sigh and grab the kitchen towel. When there’s a puddle of pee because our tiled floor is better than the flower beds and grass, I’ll shake my head and get the mop. Because we brought them into this home, we chose them. They are entitled to be who they are. I can have the patience for them and their quirks. 

The same goes for the quirks of this house, technology has a shelf life. It shouldn’t but it does. A burst pipe, dodgy electrics and so on goes part and parcel with the mortgage. Would we have rented if we’d have realised all this in the beginning? No, of course not. Owning this house means our hard earned savings went somewhere and will one day pay for our retirement or travelling or even be handed down to our kids. It is something worthy of being patient about. However frustrating and hard it can be and often is. 

It was our choice to buy this place. The same as inviting our furry pals to live with us. It’s all about choice. So when something bursts, breaks or fizzles its electrics out of whack I will have a moment of disbelief, that’s only natural, but I’ll also take what I’ve learned about patience and carry on. It’s all part of the narrative. 

Now I need to find the pool puncture so I can sigh in a very chilled manner!

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

Comfort Zone

Today I saw my friend who is visiting the UK from New Zealand. 

We met in school over 20 years ago. I remember him from school. I don’t know how close we were. But reconnecting on facebook a number of years later led to very long conversations on summer nights in the garden. We spoke of our time in University and how life had changed or stayed just the same. We spoke so freely and unlike any other way I’d encountered until that point and when he left to go home I remember sitting and replaying the evening over and over. It fascinated me. 

Soon after he left the UK and travelled. I maintained my habit of working to pay for my travelling and then upon my return from Australia in 2013 my life changed drastically. Me became a we and I became an us. We would be travelling to Spain. Both of us made choices in our lives. As life does, time moved on and before long those chats with my friend seemed a distant memory. If it wasn’t for social media and emailing, the friendship would have struggled. 

It was in 2016 that we reconnected while he popped back to the UK and then flitted away again. And yet our emails remain to this very day. We are both married and settled. I was lucky enough to watch his wedding over zoom last August and was grateful to be one of the few who graced that group. Our emails now speak of how life is treating us and the next big goal we each have. 

He flew into the UK last week and his parents held a garden party today for family and friends to see him and his new wife. It seems I am the last friend to stay in contact with him, he points out that he also lost contact with others, taking ownership of his actions as usual. I felt extremely appreciative to be included. Mr W was there, naturally, but I felt extremely nervous to be surrounded by people I did not know. This was cushioned by the fact that after 6 long years I was seeing my friend again.

I was being flung between the zones of comfort and excitement. Something that took me by surprise was just how ‘known’ I was. His parents and sister all knew more about me than I expected and I felt like it acknowledged this friendship we had all the more. After 5 hours of talking and laughing with strangers I felt almost confident to step outside the comfort zone. To talk freely about nothing particularly important but let it bolster my nervousness and say ‘hey, this is how you grow.’ Would I see these strangers again, possibly not. But does that mean you don’t bother engaging with them? No. I think it goes a long way to have a voice no matter where you are. Or who you are with. I know that this time last year talking to strangers was really difficult for me. I felt I needed to be asked questions or find an instant common ground. But now, today especially, it felt great to just talk as if I’d known people for years because that’s when the ‘I’ comes out in me. How interesting it is for the other person I’ll never know, but it goes a long way down the path of self-awareness and acceptance. 

The biggest example of this dare I say ‘progression’ is discussed in ‘Coffee for four’ (link below). The best way I can describe it is feeling as comfortable talking to strangers about nothing in particular as talking to a loved one about something deeply personal. It resonates on a different level, from a different zone but gives you that same feeling of warmth and acceptance. I’d like to think it opens me up to new ideas and opinions. Which ultimately is what we seek in travel. To have our eyes opened to new cultures and places. So embracing that ideal in our home lives can’t be a bad thing. I think it’s just something that’s more accepted when you travel. As if your brain is ready for the onslaught of everything new, shiny and exciting. When you are at home it’s almost as if you don’t need to try. You are comfortable. 

Fundamentally, this is a question of confidence. It reminds me that somewhere inside still exists the girl who chases horizons and finds joy outside the comfort zone.

Coffee for four

Driving a wardrobe

Today Mr W got his first glimpse of the NC500 itinerary. 

We sat and scrolled through all of it together. I was so nervous. It’s 6 months in the making and lots and LOTS of research. Up until today I hadn’t even thought to check the word count. It comes in at a hefty 11,000 words. It finally feels finished now that my partner in crime has seen it. 

There are some checks to be made in terms of the postcodes for the hidden locations and truth be told I’m looking to use the ‘what 3 words’ app. This hones down an area by using three random words. And is accurate down to the last 3 metres squared. It’s already all done online, worldwide so I just have to put my brain into gear and spend a day sorting it. With over 80 locations and hotels it’ll be a feat of concentration for sure. A lot of the places we are visiting are described rather than having an address so this will cut a lot of time and guesswork out of the driving. As too many of the places don’t exactly have car parks and you need to rely on laybys we need to have our locations pretty spot on.

When it comes to car parks in general there’s no definitive information on some about payment etc. So it’s another thing to remember to carry a supply of change etc. 

We also discussed lots of ideas about how we will travel in terms of luggage. We’re pretty set on how the food supplies will work. We’ll have meals on the go in one box, snacks and drinks in two more and then the breakfasts and dinners in the back of the car so we can grab them for the evenings. We’ve decided to take one big piece of luggage for clothing such as trousers, tops etc and then a smaller bag for underwear and other small items. We can then compartmentalise the car, much like a wardrobe, and it’ll make grabbing what we need really easy. The idea behind all this planning and strategizing is minimising the amount of time we hunt through luggage and boxes for what we need. We want the car to be like our home on wheels. We have drawers at home for socks. So we will come up with a similar concept in the car. As we will be on the road, in-between hotels for 10-15 hours, we need to be able to cut down on the faffing about. So streamlining the process of reaching our hotel and checking in is really important to me. To check in with our valuables and an overnight bag is our plan. 

As Mr W proclaimed today, this kind of organising effort is right up my street so I’m not worried at all. There are going to be days that we’ll feel like zombies, but as my darling husband announced today, ‘this is an adventure’. And I simply cannot wait!

Oh and a little update on our pool-time extravaganza today. The sun didn’t emerge from the clouds until after 2pm and by that time it was hidden behind the huge trees behind our house. To say the water was cold is an understatement and after many huffs and puffs from me, we moved the pool to higher and hotter ground, it’s now ready for the summer festivities and I am ready for it! It is now also in a place that is not overlooked, which means I’ll be wearing a bikini for the first time in my life and owning every single second of it!

Be silly

I am a 34 year old woman. 

And 3 years ago I got ridiculously excited about finally using a blow up whale in a pool in Alcudia. Mr W and I bought it on our first trip to Spain back in 2014 and like a mini-curse, the heavens opened and he stayed in his box. 

2 years ago, England was navigating its way through a mega heatwave and lockdown measures. We cooked by day and sweat by night. By August 2020, I finally relented and bought a big blow up pool. I bought an electric air pump and some chlorine tablets. This bad boy would make everything more bearable. The day the box landed on our doorstep, the rain came. It brought wind and chilly temperatures and away the box went. 

Last year, the UK had one week of hot weather and the box became dusty in the garden shed. 

Now I remember the joy of being poolside in 2019. I remember the beads of water falling from my hair, down my back, leaving an icy cool path in its wake. I remember blowing up Willy the whale and Mr W laughing at me. I also remember him jumping all over him in the pool. I remember how freeing it was to have fun that many think should stay in childhood. 

Willy is up in the suitcases with the flippers and snorkel gear, just waiting for our next trip poolside. But today, with a free-ish weekend that will see the UK bathing in another heatwave, I have freed the blow up pool from its box, broken the sellotape that sealed it, and set the pump to work. I have prepared a cabana style area at the end of our garden. There are sheets shielding us from pervy eyes and a table to hold our drinks. There is ice in the freezer and gin in the fridge. There is a projector waiting to whirr into life so we can sit in the cool water and watch a Disney film. There are lights that will be turned on when night falls and a smile will remain firmly fixed on my face. 

I am a 34 year old woman. There are more silly times ahead. 

Stranded in Paris

In late 2008, I was invited to Paris to celebrate a friend’s 21st birthday. With only a few weeks to get sorted and looming deadlines at University I left the planning to my close friend who was also going. She was a student too, living in Coventry and I saw her as much as my schedule would allow. 

The plan was set, I would get my usual train up to Coventry and after sleeping top and tail in her tiny student room we would set off for Paris. It felt so strange to turn over control to someone else but truth be told my second year of my English Literature degree was kicking my arse.

It took one cab, a train and a bus at 4am to get to the airport for our flight. Once landed there was another short journey on a coach before finding our way around on the metro to meet our friend. They’d taken the hotel booking on for us and we found ourselves in a small triple bedded room with an exceptionally tiny private bathroom.

We would be in Paris for approximately 24 hours and time was ticking. We wandered the Champs Elysees, ate fromage and baguettes and spent time looking up at the Louvre. Paris felt like a playground. 

After a quick wardrobe change we met our friends and their french companions at a small back alley restaurant. The tables and bench seating were traditionally rustic and the food was fantastic. I still remember the duck, or canard, I had even now. It was remarked to be a peasants dish but I’d never tasted good like it. Rich and delicious. 

After food and lots of wine, it was time to dance. We paid the hefty (to us students) entrance fee to a very small basement club and descended the stairs from street level. There was bench seating around the walls and the room left for dancing was no bigger than my living room now. 5 metres squared at the very most. There was one door in and out of the room. No windows or vents. The music was booming and the sweat was pouring. 

I remember paying for a round of drinks that had been ordered as we were all scattered and the waiter was impatient. Now, owing to the fact my memory is shocking and that it was 14 years ago, I can’t say I remember getting back to the hotel or sleeping in particularly late. 

It was a Sunday in Paris and the sunny skies of Saturday had been replaced by thick clouds. November was bringing winter to France. Packing up our bags, I took my friend’s lead and headed back to the coach station where our trip in Central Paris had begun. 

On arrival, it was evident that no coach was heading out soon. Our flight was in a little over two hours, so asking at the kiosk was vital for us getting some help. This is when we got a nasty shock. 

The next coach would be in an hour. We had just missed one. What on earth could we do? I’d paid for the hotel, for my friend and I, out of my remaining cash and only had bank cards left. They had little to nothing on them. On asking a taxi how much it would cost and how long an airport run would take we realised how very screwed we were. No matter what we did right now, we were going to miss our flight home. 

My friend looked at me as my holdall fell to the pavement. Think, think, think. And then the snow started falling. I remember seeing the white specks littering the space around my bags and laughing. What on earth were we going to do? 

I called home and told my mum what had happened. She said we could use her card in a taxi, but the card needed to be in Paris. Eventually my brain engaged and I gave her my banking passwords and she was able to transfer money from my savings to my bank account. After withdrawing the maximum amount from the ATM, I grabbed my bag, told my friend the plan and we headed to Gare Du Nord. I remember her being angry, upset and most likely embarrassed. She walked ahead of me in the tunnels of the metro and I let her. We jumped on a train and didn’t talk. My job at this moment was to get us home. 

On arrival at the station I headed to the ticket desk. For two tickets home the €300 cash in my hands was not enough and I had to use my bank card to make up the rest. It was something like £500+ for two last minute fares. The whole trip so far had cost less than £80. 

I swallowed my shock and watched the tickets print behind the glass. With my purse, passport and new ticket in hand, holdall in the crook of my elbow, I turned towards the escalator that would take me to the Eurostar departure lounge. As I took my first step onto the moving stairway a hand arced over the handrail and made a ‘swipe’ movement. Out of nothing but instinct to react my hand pulled away. It wasn’t until we reached the top that my friend asked if I was okay. I said, ‘yeah, why?’. She stood there shocked and related what she had seen. That a homeless man had made a grab for everything in my hand and I’d barely taken it away in time. In shock from what had taken place out on the streets, my mind and my body had become separated in thought and action. I thanked my subconscious instincts and we carried into passport control. 

There was less than 30 minutes until the train was due to depart and, as they always are, the queues were phenomenally long. For the first time, I started to panic. We could not miss this train! The queue was soon checked for train departures and we were sped through the line. With bags in hand and our tickets flapping in the breeze we ran to our train. Final calls being yelled. Door buzzers sounding. Our feet slapped loudly against the platform. We all but launched ourselves into the waiting doors of the compartment. As we sat down, we looked at each other for the first time in hours. Relief flooded my face and lungs as my friend collapsed into my lap with loud sobs. It was time to go home. 

Limits

It is day 876,352 of having Covid. 

Really, in actual fact, it is day 5 of testing positive. My life hasn’t changed apart from missing one day of work and allowing myself to watch as much tv as possible until my body needs sleep. Today has been a busy day considering that on Saturday I slept for over 20 hours. I woke up and no longer felt the fatigue in my bones. So I grabbed the laptop and started ploughing through the to-do list for our next big trip. 

To be fair it is a small list at this point, but two hours in and one of the days on the trip had transformed completely. Out of the 14 mornings while we are away, most of them start before 7:30am. In fact, most start at 6am. Paint me shocked. Tell the girl from 10 years ago who’s days usually started at lunchtime. Mr W has definitely had an impact. 

The plans I looked at today were busy enough to have us doing three big hikes starting at 6am. There’s maybe one day when we need to start at 5am to drive for two hours to witness the sunrise and I don’t mind it as a one off, but there are certain limitations when it comes to the body. Hell, in January, after a fortnight of deep research and planning for this trip, my limit light was blinking and my brain shut down! So, doing an endless fortnight of 14 hour days of photography, walking, driving and battling all the elements is going to be exhausting. So, when I found myself cutting parts out of the day in question, I was pleasantly surprised at how calm I was. When it comes to travelling I rarely know my limits. I will be up and ready for a long day and I will never go back to a hotel without completing an itinerary. It’s how I’m built. 

Or at least how I thought I was built. Today’s cut, pastes and deletes were owed to something new I found to do near Ben Nevis, a place which opens a lot later than the rest of Scotland. This caused a shift in the day’s plans and meant taking two things off the agenda. It made me choose between events rather than force myself to do everything. In light of these changes, I realised that we would be too late to another event and with a quick ‘delete’ and an ‘Oh well’ I made the necessary adjustments. This is not me!

Also, I know how frustrating it might be for me to sound so vague, but I really want my first experience of telling you about our trip to Scotland to sound fresh, so keeping details back as much as possible is really important. Stay tuned!

It’s not that I haven’t had limits before, I have, I’ve dragged my arse across Australia feeling tired up to my eyeballs. I’ve forced my feet up and down the avenues of New York because the itinerary calls for it. My limits are screaming at me like warning bells and I hear them, I just pretend I don’t.

It’s only since travelling in this country and the changes that lockdown brought about that the voice inside my head with all warnings about limits has started to make sense. In our personal lives we’ve even started to block out weekends so we can be at home, together, with nothing else to do. Inevitably, when I get a message asking if I’m free on those blocked out days, I will feel awful about saying we aren’t available because I’m a 1000% committed people pleaser. Being a people pleaser has ultimately stopped me looking after myself in situations and in turn neglecting Mr W. His limits are often dictated by my own. And that is not fair. Saying no to people is a crushing feeling. Especially as I never have. There’s a mass of guilt that swarms over me everytime I do. And that in particular is something I have to work on.

It just so happens that the weekend just past was blocked out. We needed to do this so we could spend some much needed time in the house we pay a mortgage for because June saw us come and go like passengers at a railway station. And then we got covid and were home anyway. Maybe fete stepped in and missed the memo.

During lockdown we found it hard at first to sit still, but as the weeks dragged on we found comfort in these walls. And as the world began to open up, we found ourselves dreading going backwards into the fray of events. It’s a complicated feeling. It isn’t the events that are the problem. It’s the sheer number of them. It’s knowing your limits. There came a time where we’d be seeing people for brunch on a Saturday morning, after a heavy night out the Friday, running a quick errand before seeing family on the Saturday afternoon and then heading out that night. Repeating ourselves on Sunday. Time flew and it felt difficult to enjoy it. How could we be in the moment, when we were thinking of where we had to race off to next?

When lockdown ended in July 2020, I particularly found it difficult to return to normal. To hug again, close the window and enter the crowds. An afternoon with friends was beautiful and yet saw me sleeping after the exposure to filled hours. Since we’ve put a curb on our weekends, we feel lighter and have to remind ourselves that doing things on other weekends shouldn’t be classed as ‘busy’ but ‘enjoyable’ instead. Yes, we still get rather busy, but it isn’t work, it is socialising. It’s freedom. It’s life. 

For the first time in my life, I’m appreciating the limits before they appear. I realise now that the fear of limiting your life, your time, yourself is very real. Push just a bit harder. Strive for more. You can do it. However there is a very large part of life that calls for boundaries and the ability to say no. It is self preservation. It is knowing that no matter how hard you try, keeping the pace is not always possible. Saying no every once in a while has to be a good thing. Choosing to stop instead of being forced to stop is always going to be win-win. Lockdown taught us that. And for that I am grateful.  

Photo by Dave Watson

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

Scattered skies

Picture the scene. It’s 10pm. You’ve eaten lots of BBQ food and you’re being called into the darker parts of the landscape. Light is fading and you are wondering what could possibly hold such an interest. The random torches go out and around you, necks are bent, heads are up. 

Above you is a star strewn sky like nothing you’ve ever seen before. It is quite literally a blanket. Scatters of diamonds glittering away. The milky way in all of its glory. Below you your feet are set into the red dirt of the outback shrouded in complete darkness. You cannot see anything in front of you. The only light pollution you’ll find here is the twinkle of the stars looking on from a million miles away.  

I have been enamoured with the night sky since that moment 9 years ago in Australia. I’d never fully appreciated the concept of a true dark sky until that night. I always thought it was good to see the big dipper when I was out and about in England. That felt like a treat. Now I know what hides behind the clouds. What fades away because of surrounding streetlights. Back then I thought I captured absolutely everything on my camera and yet I have no photos of that night. I’ve tried so hard to describe it to people and I never seem to do it justice. The only other time I’ve ever seen anything remarkably close is when walking along a freshly tarmacked pavement when snow has just started to fall. The specks of white snow stand out starkly against the black backdrop and as more falls it reminds me of the Australian skies. 

Chasing a memory is all good and well but when Mr W said there were ‘dark skies’ areas around the UK I found myself wanting to chase stars again. 

It started with a visit to Thirsk in North Yorkshire, just a simple overnight visit on our way to Edinburgh. After a smooth 5 hour drive we dumped our bags and headed to Sutton Bank Visitor Centre. It is a beautiful area with just a short climb up the hill to see over the Yorkshire Moors. With sunlight fading fast Mr W set up his camera and waited for darkness. It was not necessarily the darkest sky I’ve ever seen, the towns below cast a glow upwards and it didn’t hit the proverbial spot. Seeing the moths attack a head torch wearing Mr W made my trip worthwhile and we left laughing. 

Our next attempt was only a month later in Northumberland National Park. A location very high on the list of dark sky spots online. Our lodge had a dedicated garden area just for the occasion and we spent a very cold hour outside watching for stars. Here is where Mr W triumphs and my inability to be patient fails me. As I’ve learned from our recent visit to Northumberland, the sun setting at 9/10pm doesn’t necessarily mean dark skies. In fact only last week did the horizon continue its illuminations well past midnight. Very strange indeed. However back in September 2021 at 10pm the sun had truly disappeared and we were blessed with a clear, albeit cold, night sky. Mr W got all the gadgets out and whizzed away setting everything up. And then there’s me. This wasn’t Australia. No blanket of stars to see via the naked eye. Just the odd star pinpointed here and there covering your peripheral sight with your elbow because this dark sky spot had a porch light activated by movement. You have to laugh, you really do. I felt like a fox being caught sneaking into a chicken coop everytime I moved. We did in fact have a lovely time, aside from my complaining, watching the planets. I seem to remember it was Jupiter that appeared in the sky and even to this naked eye, it was pretty impressive. 

One day it will happen. Maybe in Scotland. The highlands are supposed to be some of the Uk’s best dark skies locations. With villages being very small and untroubled by streetlights I think there’s a good chance my patience will be rewarded. 

I’m also aiming to be on high alert for some Northern light tracking. I have an app set up on my phone to alert me to the perfect conditions and will (WILL!) drag Mr W and our sorry arses out of our rented bed to the night-time skies to see the colours dance once more. 

Dancing skies of lights or stars seem to hold an interest with me. I think it’s where your eyes can roam and your mind can rest. Where your feet stay still and yet you feel transported. Ultimately, that’s something to be patient for. 

Scattered minds rest while gazing at scattered skies. 

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

One piece at a time

STOP placing your sense of self worth in other people’s hands. 

I saw something online during the pandemic that completely resonated with me and yet has taken me this long to fully incorporate into my life. It was a simple phrase. At first I thought it sounded quite bitter. Something a narcissist would say. However, as time has gone on and I’ve recalled it in times of sadness or doubt, it’s helped me look after myself and my own. My little circle of people. The people I take a picture of my garden for. The ones I let know that I’ve arrived at my destination in one piece. A funny memory that has popped into my head. A joke I’ve heard. Good news or bad news. 

‘It’s funny, when you quit texting first, you realise who was putting in all the effort.’ 

Let that marinade for a while. 

Are there people in your life whom, if you didn’t reach out first, you’d ever hear from? It is a scary thought and truth be told I wouldn’t necessarily stop reaching out to people to test them. They’re not lab rats and there are always plenty of situations that cause us to be flakey and forget other people for a little while. 

I’m talking about the ones who hurt your heart. The people who you try and try with and still get nowhere. Each time you may approach it differently. Wonder if you’ve done something wrong when you are ignored or cut short. Wonder if that is just how they are and why you’d want to be around it in the first place. When you see it happening to a loved one, who builds up such an image in mind of a yearned for relationship, only to have it crash around them you naturally want to help. You step in and try to play the matchmaker only to find the same attitude directed your way. It’s heart wrenching. 

Only today I encountered something similar. And then snap. The missing puzzle piece snaps into place. The picture is complete. All the edges have aligned. And yet the image is foggy, blurry and confusing. No more trying for people who don’t want to be involved, no more hoping they’ll say yes this time and no more excuses. It’s time for a clearer picture. 

I believe it’s age or experience that has made me sit up straight and swear to myself that the no bullshit approach is the one for me. Remember, the ‘he’s just not that into you movement’? The guy takes the girl on a date, says he’ll call and never does. Then the girl’s friends all swarm around with speeches about how ‘of course he likes you, he’s just busy’ and ‘he’ll call any day now’ or ‘maybe you’re just too pretty for him.’ I mean, how crazy can it be to be honest, he’s not calling, because he does not want to. And the same goes for friends. The same goes for family. 

It is not easy to be blunt. It’s often misconstrued as being a horrible person when you are. I’ve only ever done it once. To my beautiful friend who juggles her dating life with more than a little fear and trepidation. I’ve seen her confused, angry and hurt more than a dozen times in as many years and seeing her hurt more than enough times has led me down the path that leads to Blunt-town. And the truth is, it isn’t an attack on her. It’s an attack on babying her. And leading her to more heartache. 

The truth is, when dating, we build up a mock up of what we want a date to be. Then we build up a mock up of how the next one will go. And soon enough a whole relationship is plotted in our minds because it’s only natural to do so. The fact is, you create for you, to suit you, the other person has their own image and future puzzle pieces. You might have them cut out to fit into your picture, but you might not be in theirs. Maybe you’re sitting in a temporary pile waiting to be picked up. Or maybe discarded. It’s sad when you build up an image in your head only to have it ripped up. 

However, how can this be the other person’s fault? Unless you rolled out the image, pointed at the gap where they fit, and say, so what do you think? I’m unsure as to how they would know what is expected. I’ve been in that situation, I put my heart out there, he watched it jump out of my chest and took a further 3 months of my life to give me it back. It was bruised, exhausted and shaken when I put it back in my chest but if I had been honest I knew when he didn’t nurture it from the start that I could have saved myself a lot of grief. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. 

There is a limit to how many times we can build a picture of expectations up before it lays in tatters and we question why we aren’t good enough. Why don’t they want us? I wish I could reach through this screen and comfort you. Because you are enough. You do not need to chase the people who aren’t chasing you. You need to let go of those expectations. Focus on the puzzle pieces that fit into your life by choice. Not by hammering them in with a closed fist and telling yourself it works. It ruins the beautiful aesthetic of your life. Do you one of the most beautiful things that can happen when you stop chasing, you get messages and calls and they light up your day. Ring ring, this person is thinking about you. Ring ring, answer please, they want to talk to you. Ring ring, you matter. Ring ring, you’re enough. 

Playing devil’s advocate is a long running role for me. I’ll always try and look at things in a multitude of ways just to cover all the bases. But there’s an endgame when it comes to matters of the mind and heart. If your mind is racing through scenarios of why and what if and you can sleep at the end of it. Have at it. But if at the end of the race, you’ve found no consoling scenario, your night was sleepless, your tears are streaming and your heart hurts. You are the only puzzle piece that takes precedent. You are wonderful and you deserve everything because you are enough. Take a step back and realise not everyone thinks the same as you. Not everyone has the same image, picture, puzzle or expectation. We are all built differently. Some of us are laid back, easy going, like those wooden puzzle pieces with the plastic pins that fit into the wooden board. Some of us are intricate, with 2000 quirks and stories. You get the 3-d puzzles that just won’t cooperate. The double-sided dilemmas. And the box with the missing pieces. 

You can’t control the outcome. You can only control how you handle your expectations. The beauty is that unlike a puzzle, life is an ever changing picture. You don’t have control over it and the truth is if you did it wouldn’t be as beautiful. It would be forced. The picture is there waiting. We just haven’t seen it all yet. But piece by piece, one at a time, it’ll all fall into place.    

Photo by Dave Watson

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

Planning the NC500 cont.

Well here we are, I have covid.

I ‘the ultra liable to get sick’ have managed for two and a half years to keep completely healthy and bam it’s got me!

So far it’s been body aches, night sweats and shivers, a running tap of a nose and loss of appetite. Oh, and the sore skin! Omgosh. My skin feels burned. 

But other than that I am lucky. Either without the jabs, now or back in 2020, or with a stronger strain perhaps, things could have been so different. 

I’m counting my lucky stars for sure. 

Sleeping hasbeen the main course of action. Yesterday I saw sunlight for 4 broken hours. Crazy. Today the aches are subsiding, the temperature is just hot hot hot and I’m not so tired. Ever the optimist, ha, I’m thinking this all means good. I’ve taken solace that I havent lost my sense of taste, albeit I’m not hungry but I’m guzzling down tea like never before and it does taste like tea so yippee!

You may have noticed my last few posts were rather abstract. With my fuzzy head I delved into my archive of writings and dug out what I could. It was that or mash my forehead on the keyboard and pray for something good to come out of it. I will let you decide if the route I chose was the best. 

So Scotland, there have been several updates to the plans which is great. It’s finally getting somewhere! We are no longer stuck in a rut and movement is being made.

Most of the hotels have now gotten back to me regarding the recycling emails I sent out, so that is a big weight off of my chest. I’ve compiled all the info (nerd) so I know how to plan for our sustainable rubbish collections as we go along. 

After trying to fit a whiskey distillery into our trip, Mr W decided it wasn’t worth all the detouring and squeezing of our timelines. So that is a rather big adjustment I don’t have to make. I don’t drink whiskey at all, Mr W would give it a go, but ultimately it is something you are told time and time again to do when you head to the highlands, so into the plans it went. Unfortunately the time we have in Skye was planned around one particular distillery, and when it came to booking, they are under refurbishment. There is SO much we want to do on the Isle of Skye that adjusting became such a nightmare. It was doable, by my standards at least, but it did mean another day of getting up at an ungodly hour. And quite frankly, if my stomach and gag reflex around whiskey is anything like it is around brandy, we could have been in a bit of a pickle. That pickle being a mound of pukey puke puke! So that’s another item… not ticked, but deleted off the to-do list. Which in a way has given us more time to wander around Portree harbour and we actually get time for a hot meal. I mean, hello!

Speaking of which, I finally remembered to call a restaurant to book us in for dinner the night before we arrive in Inverness. It is in a tiny town at the very top of the Cairngorms, and one of the last times we’ll eat hot food off of a plate. Sounds dramatic, but it is true. 

I’ve had a brief look into geocaching and nothing jumped out at me when I looked at the list. This may be something I come back to at a later date. Maybe. Probably one sleepless night. This is a possible ‘to be continued’ moment. 

I’ve also tried paying off our final accommodations and yet they are all pay on arrival, so that’s a note made on the itinerary. 

All rather boring stuff I’m afraid. I’ve even tried to book the very last thing on my list and the website is being refurbished, so I can’t! Ha! You cannot make it up.

Right now, I’m checking out locations on our route that can help us get some family tartan. That would be the only souvenir I plan to get on this whole trip, so I want to make sure that I pre-order it and that I don’t have to travel too far off of our route to get it. I have a few that I’ve found and will check them out soon.

All very thrilling stuff as I’m sure you can determine for yourself. For now, my head is getting fuzzy, my temperature is spiking and my final cup of tea of the day is calling. 

Well done to the people who have beaten me and still not caught covid. Thank you to the jabs for making sure I’m not suffering too badly. And praise the tea-god for they are all so powerful!