Month: Aug 2022

Mental health: triggers

A few weeks ago I wrote ‘The new healthy’ (link below) and it was the most open I’ve been about my mental health for a while. I spoke about how being a people pleaser can sometimes land you in hot water and how if it is misconstrued as meddling it can often have a detrimental effect. I also believe that however good and helpful it is to be a people-pleaser, over time it diminishes your ability to please yourself. You have no capacity left to think about you and your needs and certainly no energy once you’ve stopped running around after everyone. There needs to be a limit. 

While writing that blog, I felt the need to talk about something that I have recognised in myself recently. The word ‘trigger’ is mentioned a lot these days when it comes to mental health. There are more discussions than ever before about our mental health and the introduction of the word ‘trigger’ is not far behind. 

To be triggered is to have an adverse feeling caused by something being done or said around you. The adverse effect is normally something that makes your mental health plummet. May it be temporary anxiety or sadness. Often it is indescribable but I am attempting today to explain mine. 

I am not a positive person. I believe this goes hand in hand with my anxiety. When looking at a situation I am more than likely to discuss what could go wrong as a way of coping with it before it/or if it actually happens. By assessing it in this way, I’m almost preparing myself mentally. You can see where my OCD nature of planning comes into play here. As lovely as it would be to be spontaneous, the anxiety that simmers under the surface of my skin would quite frankly not allow it. Feeling this way is hard. It makes life hard. It has for a very long time. To this effect, I don’t like other people to feel sad. I want to make sure no one feels this way. It is not a mission I choose to live by, but if I see someone in pain and mental anguish, I want to be their cheerleader. I want to listen and guide and offer advice to lessen their load. By that reasoning I am trying to lead ‘cheer’. And others will often tell me, why cant you be that kind to yourself?

But the question is, what happens when you can’t fix something? When the story is told and there is no happy ending to be found? No way out of the maze of sadness? How does one be a cheerleader for that kind of story? There is being someone’s shoulder and listening but that can only do so much. 

What if the negativity of someone else’s life infiltrates yours?

There are times when I truly want to listen to my friends and family. When I want to help them. But it can’t happen. It doesn’t work. Ultimately every situation can’t be fixed or explored. There is no way out. Only that person stuck in the often unpreventable, but sometimes self-made, unhappiness. It is the self-made unhappiness that I struggle with the most. Where I literally cannot offer any words of comfort or logic when my own mental health crumbles. 

Have I failed as a cheerleader? Am I required to hand back my pom poms?

It has become an issue that I find I cannot ignore. This negativity trigger of mine stops the words in my mouth and the heart in my chest. I find myself retreating into my very being. I can literally feel my back arching and my head falling to reach my shoulders. The word tense seems apt. 

That is where the idea of boundaries came along. To detach myself from certain conversations in my life to adjust my anxieties to suit my fragile mental health. There are situations that are revisited time and time again that have no solution that I have asked to be kept out of. Does it mean I don’t care? Of course not, but caring and not being able to solve it is making me ill. Mental health, when it gets that bad, makes you ill. What good am I to anyone in that case?

There will be times when a boundary isn’t needed. You can just nod along and pretend everything is fine before you quickly find a way to exit the situation. It makes for a very inventive way of living for sure. Oh, I forgot to make that cup of tea. One minute I think the cat is clawing at the door. Oh, I need to pee.  Sometimes though boundaries are not in fact even available. My trigger is now that bad, that even nasty words said online can have a harmful impact. 

Due to the pandemic, my facebook page which was once successful and on its way to becoming a career has stalled. It is sad but I’ve taken the hit and moved on. Now, I spend my days trawling the online groups to ask real people about their experiences around the world and ask my own questions to widen my understanding of a place, city etc. Being privy to all this information is astounding. Other times, there are people who hide behind their keyboards and are so rude that it is really shocking. Whether it’s a remark made to me or another person makes no difference to me really, it still shocks and triggers. Where does that boundary come in? 

Truth be told I’ve retaliated at times recently to stand up for people and even though it gets me nowhere I feel good for defending others. But now, I’ve come to the realisation that the people behind their screens are leading very sad lives in which to get their jollies, bully others. So now I report, delete and block. I don’t need or want to understand the logic behind their motives and my boundary is to delete it so I can’t see it. Those negative triggers are much easier to stop in their tracks. Talking to Mr W will often result in ‘their morons leading moronic lives’ and a giggle from me.

No boundaries needed. Just swift action. And a laugh. 

When it’s closer to home I find that the delete and blocking option is not there. So what now? Taking a step back? Finding those boundaries and being brave enough to enforce them?

Perhaps. 

What I’ve come to accept recently is that the trigger is there and I’m not the one pulling it. Just understanding why it happens and how I can work around it by being open is just the beginning. It’s the biggest step to take. Acknowledgement always will be. 

https://frameworktravel.home.blog/2022/08/16/the-new-healthy/

Healing and hungover at Heathrow

In early October 2018, Mr W and I were newlyweds and heading on our Honeymoon. After a morning swim at our hotel Mr W was feeling slightly refreshed after a tiring day at our wedding 24 hours previously. I sat on a sun lounger with my feet up watching my new husband in disbelief. My feet had started to swell from being in heels all day and I had some nasty sores on the back of my heels. My airport outfit as a newlywed was cute without trying too hard. Jeans and a sparkly, striped jumper with espadrille type shoes. Cosy with a hint of glamour. The plan was to relax for a few hours before heading to the airport in a taxi. At the airport we would grab a drink and toast our marriage. 

Having eaten twice at the hotel, a delectable buffet breakfast and a shared dinner, we weren’t looking to eat at the airport so settled on a drink. Having slept on and off for maybe four hours the night before, my ears pounding with the music from the DJ and my brain running wild with images of love and laughter, sleep hadn’t come easy. The adrenaline flowed and flowed. As it was now past 6pm and a full 27 hours since we had said ‘I do’, we were both looking to sleep as much as possible on the 10 hour flight to Colombo before our short flight to Male. Quickly after leaving our hotel, the feeling of tiredness came over us and arriving at a bar we both toasted our marriage with tea. The glam life was slipping away!

As I shuffled through the airport I felt the tiredness take control of my emotions and became extremely upset about the pain in my feet. Trying to ignore it wasn’t working. Mr W led me to an Accessorize where we bought some thin socks to act as a barrier between my feet and shoes. As I sat on a bench seat seeing to my shoes, I remember thinking that things were not going to plan. This wasn’t how I wanted our honeymoon to start. With my new husband and healing limbs we slowly made our way to the departure gate. 

The gate was simply stunning. Used to the gates of Easyjet flights that are en masses in one big hall with seats in rows and gates cut into the large glass wall of windows, this was something else entirely. 

There was a little doorway that we were ushered into, like a giant arch with people checking you in beforehand and then bliss beyond. The room was purely for the use of this flight. Along one side of the room, a huge expanse of ferns and other lush greens were planted vertically on a living wall. Occasionally misting wands directed their waters at the plants. It covered the entirety of the wall. From side to side and top to the bench below. Surprisingly not many couples were present and I reasoned it was because we were flying into Colombo first. Families with young children were paying visit to relatives and men in business suits filled the room. 

Unsure of when our seat row would be called out, we settled in to be called forward. As you do in a crowd of people, I began people watching. Our seats were perpendicular to the living wall and with Mr W on my left, I had to bend forward and look past him to gaze upon it. It was fascinating how the plants were living so happily in a totally man made environment. No natural light in sight. As my roving eye continued I noticed a suited man on the bench connected to the plant paradise. He had earphones in and was gesticulating wildly. I had found my person to watch and wonder about. Not long after I noticed him, did he take his shoes off. Not in some dramatic fashion but casually slipped them off, as if he had just arrived home and was getting comfy. Then he swung his legs up, body around and lay down on the bench. By this point, I wasn’t the only one watching him. Nudging Mr W, soon saw him watching and looking round the room, I found that this strange man had quite the captive audience. There was no question of what flight he was going to be on. This was one gate for the one flight. 

I remember thinking, oh please don’t let him on. Quite obviously drunk, he was a complication my sleep addled brain did not need on this flight. All of a sudden the man reached up his hand and tugged on one of the plants in the display. Shreds of leaves and soil fell down on him as people around him slid away. Mouths around the room fell open. And still he lay there completely oblivious. 

Meanwhile the ticket desk had opened and rows were being called out. It dawned on me that with only 30 or so people left in the room it was quite possible that this man would be sitting near us. With the room less crowded, flight staff in high-vis jackets had noticed his behaviour and had approached him. He sat up, swaying on his seated spot and smiling at their questions. I felt for sure that he would not be allowed on the flight while he was that intoxicated. At one point, one of the attendants, raised their hand and held up three fingers. They were asking him to count their fingers! Now I really had seen everything. They did this several times. 

Our row was finally called and we sped forward. We were the last of maybe 10 people left in the departure lounge, including the inebriated man. And oh my god, they were letting him on the flight.  As we boarded, Mr W, ever the gentleman, let me have the window seat. We buckled up as it became very clear that the man was going to be seated in front of us. 

Bracing for a difficult flight, we tuned into the inflight entertainment, folded our bodies into origami arrangements and tried to sleep. 10 hours later, having been fed and watered with beautiful food from Sri Lankan Airlines and feeling more human than expected, we landed in Colombo. The flight was superb, at over 6 foot tall Mr W always struggles for room on flights and when the exceptionally taller man in front of him reclined his seat as soon as stepping on board, the lovely flight attendant asked him to kindly refrain from doing so and monitored the situation for the duration. The same flight attendant also soothed and rocked a baby who was crying throughout the night by shhh’ing and swaying her around the galley. Spectacular. To make things even better, the drunk man… slept the entire flight. He woke up for breakfast, had two orange juices and was very quiet indeed. I did not envy him his hangover. Flights are bad enough to dehydrate the body at the best of times, but when drunk? No thank you!

Anxious about our connecting flight, we burst from the plane and looked around quickly for signs. And there they were. A team of people, in a line, ushering us onto the small aircraft to Male. Our 30 minute connection time was completed in less than 5 minutes. Just fantastic. 

A short while later, we took off from the Sri Lankan capital and crossed the Laccadive sea.  From nowhere coral reefs and atolls sprung from the blue seascape and our honeymoon began. The hectic moments were behind us. Paradise was ahead.  

The day the sun came out

Naked side of the Maldives

Things we gained in the fire

Secretive London

Yesterday’s blog detailed our early trip into London, the link is below if you want to hear just how early! The following is an account of the rest of our day and just how surprising secretive London can be. 

Mr W has an affinity for Shad Thames. You can find this on the south bank of the Thames, cross Tower Bridge and take the stairs on the left. The cobbled streets are mesmerising and the once upon a time warehouses reach tall into the sky leaving a narrow walkway below. The gantries above hark back to the building’s industrial past and it’s fascinating to witness London’s history as you have a wander. It was just after 7am as we took the slow stroll and apart from a few joggers we had the place to ourselves. On the other side of this path is Butlers Wharf with the most beautiful view of the city. I can only imagine what the view is like from the apartments that now occupy the old buildings of Shad Thames and with a hefty price tag of £7000+ a month in rent, imagining is all I’ll be doing! 

After a brief visit we crossed the river and took a chance on somewhere new. Always a ‘let’s do it next time’, St Katharine’s Dock has always taken a back seat in our plans. Across the road from the Tower of London it hides between tall buildings and unless you know it is there it is so easy to walk past. But not this time!

Tired but driven, we walked into the docks in amazement. Huge boats costing hundreds of thousands of pounds casually floated in situ. The space was silent. The water was still. I didn’t expect to see anyone at 7:15am and it wasn’t until we walked past the restaurants that lined the basin that we saw another soul. Making note of the coffee bar with benches outside we wandered our way around the outskirts taking in the fantastic swathes of flowers and cobble line pathways. At first I felt like we were trespassing on someone else’s property. The walkways are so close to the boats that you could reach out and hi-five the occupants if the occasion called for it. As it happened, I was able to say good morning to a particularly friendly and bouncing poodle and I was reminded once again how much we miss having a loyal companion of our own. 

The sky above was bright with the morning sun and yet the vast dock was intimate in the shadows. The sun had not yet kissed the space and therefore I felt the need to almost tiptoe to keep the peace. A beautiful willow tree swayed in the breeze as we crossed one of the small bridges. Mr W stomped his feet and made the walkway shiver. He knows I’m unsure of structures with no evident stability. He laughed at my nervousness and I cursed his mocking. 

Hand in hand we took a brief detour to the Blitz memorial in Hermitage Riverside Memorial Garden in Wapping. The park itself was quite unremarkable but is a much needed greenspace for the residents of the concrete jungle of Central London. I can imagine lots of dog walkers come here and enjoy the views up river while their pooches stretch their legs. Dozens of sparrows chased each other through the bushes and surrounding trees as we gazed upon the stunning memorial. A large cutout of a dove commemorates the residents of the East End of London who died during the blitz in World War II. You can view it from both sides and different angles. It is really quite beautiful. 

We stayed long enough for the sparrows to settle and then talk a slow walk back to St Katharine’s dock. Eager for coffee we made a beeline to the benches we had reserved in our minds. Walking past private and council flats alike I reminded myself of how London neighbourhoods are so close to everything ‘touristy’ and historic. I’ll never get over how someone can walk out their front door and see the Tower London or Tower Bridge. It is fascinating. I somehow always forget that the cities of the world, London, New York, Barcelona, Paris etc are residential and how this must feel for the people living there. Do they see it differently to me? 

Mr W took the initiative to order me a latte (no decaf this time) with a shot of vanilla. He knows me so well. We sat on the bench outside the tiny coffee shop on one of the tiny walkways that lined the dock and drank it all in. We sat side by side so we could both enjoy the view. 

Big boats, 

Big sky. 

Big caffeine hit.     

I could have been anywhere. Bryant park in New York with a starbucks in hand. A Parisienne cafè with a tiny cappuccino. It was just lovely to stop. Being somewhere new does that I think. The coffee tastes better. The sounds are different. Everything feels good. St Katharine’s Dock in the sun rising haze felt easy like a sunday morning where the world is waking up and starting its day. It felt like a whispered secret between us and the big rousing city. 

Summer sunrise on the Thames

Summer sunrise on the Thames

When the alarm sounded at 3:30am this morning I cursed our need to try something new. My mind, the night before, decided that 9:30pm was not an appropriate time to try and sleep and therefore played hopscotch with every thought I’d had for the past six months for two hours. Then the neighbour’s dog decided to add its voice into the mix and falling asleep before midnight became impossible. So yes, when the alarm sounded, I wondered what on earth we were doing. Grabbing the pre-packed backpack from the night before and throwing on my comfiest clothes, I stumbled down the stairs, out the front door and into the car. 

The roads were quiet and the skies pitch black. Mr W consulted the maps in his head and drove the roads for London. There were just a few cars on the roads and I guessed that most of them were cabs, owing to this our journey was exceptionally fast and smooth. 40 minutes after leaving home we pulled up at the north end of Brick Lane. A house party broke the silence of the night and we saw a straggly fox wander through a fence. 

We head out for the short walk ahead. Pausing to pick up salt beef bagels and drinks, we made our way through Spitalfields and were lucky enough to see its latest art installation called ‘The Herd of Hope’. The bronze, lifesize elephants are strewn around the market and absolutely stunning. Only there until the end of this summer we are exceptionally lucky to have seen them. From here we trekked our way past Liverpool Street Station and Heron Tower. The night was calm save for a few revellers dotted here and there. I noticed there were a lot of clouds above us and hoped it would clear soon.

We soon found ourselves on London Bridge, but wanting to watch the colours of the sky change behind Tower Bridge we stayed on the north bank of the Thames and walked east.

Realising quickly that I had misjudged the need to be on the Southbank to be at the correct angle to see the sun rise properly we sped up our pace. We walked past the old Billingsgate market and around the Tower of London. The light was trickling into the sky and our stroll had turned into a march. Missing this was not an option. 

As we walked over Tower Bridge I caught a sniff of the filled bagels in my bag and for a second I think it pushed me on faster. Walking alongside the Thames on the Queens walk at Potters Field Park we tried to find the perfect spot to sit and drink in our surroundings. A few revellers were still dancing on the large grassy steps and I was absolutely stunned at the litter left from the night before. Mr W walked ahead slightly and found a raised area with large benches. 

Perspiring and hungry, we were thankful for the respite on the cool stone plinth. The salt beef bagels were still warm and so juicy and tender that we sat in a happy state of silence eating. Below us the river danced with light as it flowed east. From between the clouds on the horizon we saw yellows and reds ignite in the sky. The lights that had adorned the bridge flickered off as night faded away. 

I alternated between resting and getting up to take photos as the sky changed rapidly. I said to Mr W how amazing it was to witness our capital city like this. How we were having the most delicious breakfast in the sleepy city and how it felt like we were the only people around for miles. 

A lot of people will and have asked why we got up so early and the answer is: space. Well, that and experiencing something new. The space we had to ourselves this morning was so special. If we had left home an hour later, there would have been people passing by on their way to work and joggers and dog walkers galore. By getting there so early we felt like London was our own playground. Like the sun was rising just for us. This isn’t our first sunrise we’ve gotten up ridiculously early to see but it was the first time witnessing the colours of the Thames change. It was the first time we were watching the buildings that make up Fenchurch street transform from night to day. 

I reminded myself then and there that waking up at 3:30am is a small sacrifice to pay to do something out of the ordinary. There will be mornings of plentitude that we’ll be waking at 7/8am. Why not try something new once in a while? 

A small smattering of rain fell from the sky above us and I found myself unbothered. Let it come, I thought, I’m not moving. Finishing my breakfast of champions and taking picture number 326 of the scene before me we decided on the route ahead… 

Work it out. Take four and five.

I hope to keep this short as my brain really needs the time to stare at the tv and switch off. For the past two nights the humidity has woken me up numerous times and I need a long shower and cool down before getting an early night. Things could be worse I am sure. But right now, I feel like a gross sticky mess and I want my bed!

Tuesday’s workout was okay. I managed all the workouts fine except the barbell deadlift where I felt my back twinge. So ended up mirroring Mr W while he had the bar to avoid any injuries. 

Today, Thursday, I was determined to keep up the pace with adding more weight and stepping up to the ‘plate’ confidently. The rain was kind enough to stay away after today’s deluge in Essex. It has been glorious to smell and watch that glorious water escape the sky. Too long has it avoided our town!

I continued my squat movements from Tuesday and am faring much better. Keeping my back straight but at a different angle to the ground I am definitely able to squat lower. Today Mr W added 2 x 1kg weights to the 7kg bar. So I am up to 9kgs on my squats. I would say that the weight on this set is not the issue. It’s getting the squat movement and back angle correct. The good thing is the pain in my upper thighs is nowhere near as painful as when we first started.

Barbell squat

5 x 9kgs

Mr W’s set

5 x 9kgs

Mr W’s set

5 x 9kgs

Mr W’s set

5 x 9kgs

Mr W’s set

5 x 9kgs

Mr W’s set

I am really enjoying the barbell bench press. Today we took it up to 2 x 2kgs on the 7kg barbell and despite struggling on one lift, and then noticing I still had Mr W’s weights on the bar, it went well. I even managed more than 5 on some of the repetitions. I have adjusted my leg placement so I can keep my core in control which will hopefully mean the bar is less wobbly when I bring it back down towards my chest. I need to remember the pace of my breathing, I am focusing on my arms so much that my breathing is often out of sync. I feel more comfortable when my breathing sets the pace. It almost sets the whole situation up for control.

Barbell deadlift

5 x 11kgs

Mr W’s set

5 x 11kgs

Mr W’s set

5 x 11kgs

Mr W’s set

8 x 11kgs

Mr W’s set

10 x 11kgs

Mr W’s set

Today’s barbell deadlift was much better. As I felt a twinge on Tuesday we only added 2 x 2kgs onto the 7kg barbell and I took it very slowly. Ironically it was the other side of my back that started twinging towards the end of the full set. I did feel it for the duration of the workout. It’s more of an ache than pain. So I’ll keep an eye on that. I must admit, this part of the whole workout is really quite boring and I know I’m not keeping my whole spine straight when I stand back up as I’m tending to look around quite a bit. As my hip’s loosen I’m hoping to add more weight and that it starts to spark some interest again. 

Barbell deadlift

5 x 11kgs

Mr W’s set

5 x 11kgs

Mr W’s set

5 x 11kgs

Mr W’s set

5 x 11kgs

Mr W’s set

5 x 11kgs

Mr W’s set

Next, my favourite, the barbell overhead press, 2 x 2kgs and the 7kg barbell. I really like the whole movement in this and the stance. I feel empowered. Like I should have my hands on my hips in the superhero pose! Today I was able to lift the bar for longer than usual but was still very aware of the weight above my face. Self confidence will come in time. 

Barbell overhead press

5 x 11kgs

Mr W’s set

5 x 11kgs

Mr W’s set

5 x 11kgs

Mr W’s set

6 x 11kgs

Mr W’s set

8 x 11kgs

Mr W’s set

The same weight was added for the barbell row and even though I could feel my back aching I found the 4kgs on the 7kg barbell relatively easy. Again I am critical of myself for keeping my arms level and working at the same pace. My body is so out of sync with itself it is unbelievable!

5 x 11kgs

Mr W’s set

5 x 11kgs

Mr W’s set

5 x 11kgs

Mr W’s set

8 x 11kgs

Mr W’s set

10 x 11kgs

Mr W’s set

The workouts are gradually increasing in time due to how many more repetitions Mr W is doing and the few I added on today. The sweat is coming quicker and even though it makes me feel gross, I am glad to see that the workout is having the desired effect!

Naked side of the Maldives

Even though I never expected to marry I was quite sure that if I ever did I wanted to go to the Maldives on my honeymoon. 

I have discussed in past blogs how I’d never thought of marriage growing up. Whether it was a disinterest, lack of faith in the dating scene or even not seeing my worth in a relationship with another person, it never was something I’d considered. 

And then there was Mr W. 

He knew how important the Maldives were to me. My dad had shared photos with me of a trip he had taken there when I was very young (and impressionable) and I yearned for those turquoise waters and pure white sands. 

As our wedding loomed and Mr W and I played the wedding planner game, the honeymoon seemed to always float around at the back of our minds. My mum took care of the car to the airport hotel, the hotel had been booked well in advance and being all inclusive all we needed to do was pack. That in itself was a strange experience. We packed two days before our wedding and the bags were picked up by the car without any involvement from us. 

With all the plans, paperwork and payments to be made in relation to the wedding the honeymoon quite literally took a backseat. In the lead up to our wedding life had been hectic but with six weeks to go there wasn’t too much left to do and I looked into the island resort we’d call home for 10 days. Adaaran hudhuranfushi looked idyllic. Sweeping vistas of the shallow lagoon. Tree lined sandy pathways. And a spa!

Not being one that likes the thought of being naked and then touched by a complete stranger, I had always run away from the idea of visiting a spa with Mr W before. Knowing this was the time for complete indulgence, I asked Mr W if he would like a couples massage. He was worried I was going to hate it, but reassuring him, we booked a facial, foot scrub and full body massage. What could possibly go wrong?

The day of our wedding came and everything went as planned. The military planning had paid off. After an interesting experience at Heathrow we landed into Male and jumped on our speedboat across the Indian ocean to our bliss. On arrival we met the tail end of a tropical storm and the heavens opened in a dramatic way. Unexpectedly we heard someone calling my maiden name and we were whisked off on a golf cart to our private water villa. Arriving in darkness had its merits. We would wake up the next morning and see the island wake up right in front of us. 

Having booked our honeymoon for October meant we would have hot weather with occasional showers of rain. As neither of us are sun worshippers and we planned to spend a lot of time in the water we reasoned that we couldn’t get any wetter. We awoke to blue skies with the strong winds of the season pushing clouds towards the horizon. 

Breakfast was held in a restaurant at the start of the private pier and still tired from the wedding and flight, we sat in silence taking it all in, the views and the food! Nervous about the massage afterwards I had a simple breakfast of eggs, beans and toast. And then we took a slow walk to the spa centre. 

The spa itself was absolutely stunning. It was placed in a large round wooden building with a conical pitched roof and I had to pinch myself yet again. There were pools of water which trinkled with drips and flowings of water. Having previously booked, a lady came to say hello and say we would be led through soon. I took the opportunity to ask her to tell the masseur about the sores I had on the back of my ankles. I had worn my wedding heels for 9 hours before giving up the ghost and begging for some of the flip flops we had bought for guests. The balls of my feet had had enough and the spongy-ness of the flat shoes felt like heaven. I was able to dance on for another 45 minutes without any issue. But 2 days later, the real damage had been revealed. The straps of my shoes had cut into my heel and left open sores. I needed this area to be treated really carefully. 

Ironically, this worry about my ankles had made me forget about being naked in front of others. We were led into a private room with two beds. The room was absolutely beautiful and as it followed the circular shape of the building the walls led out from the door at a diagonal angle to nothing. The fourth wall was gone and all we could see was plants and sand. The inside was being invited in and it was so calming. Beautiful. 

Covering ourselves in towels and climbing onto the bed we were soon joined by two women. They were both absolutely beautiful and I felt my nerves reach new heights. They asked us to sit at the head of the beds, while they kneeled on the ground before us with big bowls of warm water and swirling oils whose scents rose up to meet our noses. Petals floated around our feet as they were guided one by one into the water. After spending over 12 hours on the plane and an additional 2 hours travelling upon disembarking our feet were most definitely needing a vacation of their own. 

Trying to relax, I keep glancing at the view. It still did not feel real. Looking down I saw the ladies hand full of glimmering crystals of which I thought I looked quite rough. BEfore my brain decided to catch up with my eyes, her hand cupped the rock salt and took it to the back of my ankle. Between the pressure of her hand and my ankle the rock salt exfoliated the already sore skin. Throwing my head back and muffling a scream, I awaited the moment it would stop. Prepared for the onslaught on the next foot, I gripped the edge of the bed and gritted my teeth. Did I really think my feet would thank me for this? 

Afterwards, we were asked to lay on the beds under our towels. Having kept my knickers on I didn’t feel too bad but having such a bad relationship with my body image over the years made me really anxious. Laying them face down allowed me to pretend I was somewhere else and I actually started enjoying the pressure of the massage. The muscles that had been tense since the flight started to ease. Very nice indeed. My calves were loose. My back was free of its stiffness. And I was unsure if my now very relaxed neck and shoulders would be able to hold my head up. 

Soon we were asked to turn over and our faces were treated to moisturiser and their own mini rubdowns. I wonder now whether I had started to smile at how wonderful it felt. If I did, fingers and thumbs soon pushed it out of shape. A wet folded washcloth was placed over my eyes and then the lady continued to massage the front of my body. 

A very strange sensation started to flood over my chest. From under my makeshift eye mask I could not see what was happening. I started to wonder if my chest was bare to the elements and the ladies’ gaze. I could not tell. To this day I do not know. I started to feel tense and anxious again, but only in my mind, my body felt loose-limbed and flexible and finally felt ready to leave the wedding behind and start our honeymoon. 

Upon dressing and saying goodbye, we walked out into the blinding sunshine and wandered afresh along the paths and explored the island. Pausing only to study the plants of the vast kitchen garden the island had planted, we walked hand in hand, relaxed and happy as man and wife. 

Planning for the unknown

Has anyone else started to think we’re in some kind of modern day biblical story?

In the bible there were the ten plagues of Egypt. Water turning into blood, frogs, lice, flies, livestock disease, boils, hail, locusts, darkness, and the killing of firstborn children.

Seems horrific right?

The story of today started in 2020 with a worldwide pandemic. Shipping problems. Food shortages. Panic buying. Lockdowns. Variants. Airport chaos. Strike actions. Rise in cost of living. Drought. Wildfires. When will the troubles end?

It is set to be a difficult autumn and winter with the increase in energy prices. It is usually around this time of year that Mr W and I sit and discuss the travel for the year ahead. We have meandered around the thought of what we will do next year and I’ve even gone as far as to price up two trips. I have formulated a detailed budget for the first trip in April and every money saving tip I have in my weaponry is being used. However, this is when living in  a normal situation. With the price increases coming we are unsure of what will actually be possible. 

Will we even travel in 2023?

I said ‘We better make the very most of our two weeks in Scotland,’ to Mr W last night. It was always going to be the case that we go into the two week trip with every intention of embracing the new and making the most of it, but now it feels like it may be the last trip for a while. 

I feel strange. It’s like I’m hovering between sadness and fear. Sadness about how life has been one massive rollercoaster for so long and fear about what else may come our way. The only thing that really helps is that everyone is going through the same thing. Life is difficult for everyone right now. Which is the only way to not feel singled out I guess. 

When the lockdowns were introduced in March 2020, there was a lot of talk in my social circle about how people missed going to the pub, out to restaurants and of course travelling. The fear I had about covid stopped me wanting to leave the house at all so I was definitely on a different wavelength. When the UK government started removing restrictions I felt more nervous than ever to return to ‘normal’ life whereas my friends were raring to go. There were several words on social media at the time that they had gotten their lives back. It made me think about how many luxuries we take for granted in our everyday lives. 

When the pandemic began shopping was a real problem. Buying food and cleaning supplies was important and yet at times was near impossible. This made the worries of not going to the cinema or on our Easter weekend mini-breaks very small indeed. It has made me realise just how entitled we have become with respect to those added extras in life. 

I say that as someone who feels that she needs travel in her life. In the planning for the trip I find enrichment in the research and enjoyment in the building of the itinerary. I find joy in Mr W’s face as it all comes together and I just love being out there in the world. Entitlement is a scary thing. 

I am for the first time since 2020 mourning the life we had before. Through no fault of our own life is dramatically changed and it is scary to think about how the future is looking. Mr W and I have had brief conversations on how to save money moving forward. Cheaper dinners, electricity saving ideas and how to keep warm in the winter without relying on our central heating. We are not in a bad way financially, but as we have noticed recently, things can change so rapidly and so these conversations are necessary. It feels good in my anxiety riddled mind to have a plan. Even if we are planning for the unknown. 

When I can get over myself and be less emotional I will be able to see it logically. The bills being paid, food in the cupboards and a roof over our head are more important than flying into the unknown. 

Nothing is forever. We just have to hold out and be kind to ourselves and others. 

Packing for a UK break

This really could be a boring blog to those that aren’t interested. However it is with all good intentions that I share all travel tips and ideas with you. So this piece will highlight some of the purchases I’ve made to make the unpredictable Scottish weather a bit easier to handle. 

Now, you may have worked out by now that I love to travel on a budget and I also like to keep costs down at home. Who isn’t right? The cost of actually living these days is insane. I realised today that buying all of our food in advance for this trip, totalling £237.52 (a mere £8.48 per person per day and that includes all meals, snacks and drinks) meant I avoided paying the escalated prices of everything. No I’m not psychic, just very lucky. I dread to think how much the actual total would have been if I had left it till now. 

Due to this very particular need to buy in advance and spread the cost, a few months ago I started looking into cheap clothing that would help keep us warm and dry. Ultimately I have been trying to avoid the big costs when buying the pricey 100% waterproof clothing in places like Go Outdoors. For the sake of two weeks in Scotland, I can’t justify buying expensive trousers and thick coats. It was time to get creative. 

It is going to be extremely unlikely that we will dodge the poorer weather that often presents itself in the highlands. Heading out into the inclement weather does not bother me. My main concern is keeping the wind and rain off our chests. I am susceptible to chest infections and Mr W has asthma. A cold and flu situation does not a vacation make!

I have bought us both some fleece hoods that have a big draping part of material that can be tucked into tops etc that will keep us warm. They also have drawstrings so we can tighten them around our chins etc. I think these will be especially effective against the winds when we hike.  They were barely £2.50 each and even if we don’t wear them out walking, I think they would be a good way to warm us up if we get caught in a downpour. 

I have bought two really thick and baggy beanie hats. I love a beanie hat and these are just such great quality. Woolly hats are my worst enemy and they end up sitting on my head rather than keeping it warm. A beanie always fits me better. I think it has something to do with my hair. It pushes a woolly hat up and off. When we bought our wetsuits I realised I could wear a hat while I had a paddle so my head would be happy too. Again, at less than £2.30 I am chuffed with my purchase.

For the warmer but windier days I have some knitted headbands that will hopefully keep my hair in place and my head semi warm. The kind of warmth you need with a bit of heat release. So not too hot. Not too cold. Something just right. And they are really cute too!

I also have a very indulgent fleece/faux fur lined infinity scarf with a knitted external layer, should my neck really need some heat. At £2.80, you really can’t fault it and I’m almost praying for colder weather. Almost. 

When it comes to clothing I think Mr W and I have nailed the whole hiking wardrobe so far. Layers in abundance and spare items in the bag you have on the day. Usually I have a vest top under a long sleeve top under a light jumper and then either a thin jacket or a thick fleece-y gilet I have had for years. I find the more layers you have the better and they are so easily interchanged should it rain or you get too warm. I am confident in the fact that my upper half is usually happy with intermittent weather conditions. 

For the women readers, I like to keep the bra situation real simple. Bralets, sports bras and such like. No underwires. Hiking and some scrambling up rocky hills needs ultimate comfort. And who on earth is going to see you anyway? Do we think the sheep and cows will mind?

Now, trousers, on my first two trips to Northumberland I wore jeans on all the hikes and noticed a lack of mobility that made my legs hurt after a while. On our last trip I dared to wear jogging bottoms and oh wow the range of motion I got back was just great. I bought two basic pairs for £20 and I use them at home to do some gardening and I’m not precious about them. They are ultimately utility trousers, If they get muddy that is fine. They aren’t necessarily my style, but again as long as the cows and field dwellers don’t mind, I’m happy enough. 

As the trousers aren’t very thick, I have bought some super thick knitted leggings that on the colder days I can wear underneath. I am obsessed! They are so soft and long. This means no cold ankles. They were £9 and I reckon worth every penny. They also come up over my stomach so will double up as a body warmer too!

Now I will have my very trusty walking boots with me as ever. They are padded and sturdy. I literally feel like a superhero in these things. They are so supportive that they give me so much confidence. My actual mind believes I can hike, climb and take on these huge personal challenges. I think clothing that gives you that freedom is a big deal. They were roughly £35 and are the budget brand Karrimor from Sports Direct, but I have never ever had an issue with them.

Along with these I will have my trusty pair of Nike trainers that I wear literally everywhere. These will be for wear on pavements etc, they won’t make much of an appearance but will give my feet a break from the heftier soles of the boots. I have also invested in a knock-off version of uggs. The short version. They were £7 or so from New look and these are purely to warm my feet up should we get caught in a downpour. If my feet get cold the rest of my body soon follows. These will be like my car slippers.  

Of course we have our wetsuits. Mentioned in a previous blog. An absolute bargain from Mountain Warehouse for £50! Other wetsuits were priced at nearly £400. I mean,  what! Getting these into the luggage is going to be a challenge as they’re rather big and thick, but I reckon a good roll up will do wonders. 

Now the above does not paint a very glamorous picture, but I’m leaving the glamour to the highlands. There are, however, two times I would like to be myself and dress nicely and they are meals to celebrate our wedding anniversary. 4 years! Yay us. I’ll be packing one or maybe two lightweight dresses, that need no ironing, in the bags so we can step out in some sort of refinery. Having these luxuries on our trip will be a complete indulgence in what will be a very basic but enjoyable trip. 

As we are going to be eating most of our meals in the car we have made a small investment in a kettle that can run off the cigarette lighter port. At £12 I am made up with the quality and it has opened up so many possibilities food and drink wise. Hot chocolates on a cold day. Pot noodles at lunchtime. And a thirst quenching cup of tea! But, what about milk? Ah you see, alongside the kettle I bought those little milks you usually find in hotels from Amazon. They are long life milks so need no refrigeration and the pots are recyclable so it’s a win-win situation! Can anything beat a cup of tea when you are tired?

To keep packing to a minimum we are aiming to pack enough clothes for a week. As it is a two weeks trip we have located washing machine facilities in one of our hotels. It means taking 2 hours out of our schedule to do the ‘chore’ but it means everything we need food wise will fit in the car. It will also give us a moment to sit down.

I was quite unsure of how much I would share on this piece today. Now I have reached the point again where I think I’ll discuss the rest in situ. This means I can update you how successful the purchases were and about other ones I’m yet to tell you about. I’m very aware that this approach will see us soggy in the odd downpour, we have some ponchos to keep off the majority of the rain and I hope the above really goes a long way to keep us warm. The proof will be in the pudding.

For now, we are in the final countdown towards our trip and the very real need to start packing looms. Eep!

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

Work it out. Take two.

Workout number three and it was time to ramp it up. Oh, less clothing means less sweat! Who knew?

Poised for action in shorts, a strappy top and trainers with one sock to cover up a semi-blister from yesterday’s mammoth 15,969 steps I was ready for the barbell.

Mr W wanted to add weight on the first workout and I point blank knew that my legs are really struggling with the barbell back squats. It was only yesterday that my legs felt normal after last week’s two workouts. I think Mr W believes I can do more. But I see this as a marathon not a sprint. 

Stepping up to the bar and moving downwards, my legs instantly refused to squat lower than I wanted to push them and the 7kg bar resting on my shoulders was the last thing on my mind. A set of 5×5 squats later and mind over matter was not present. My squatting resembled nothing similar to what I have seen from others online. Rome wasn’t built in a day. And I need to remind myself of this. One squat at a time. 

Next up, the barbell bench press, laying down feels good. After a busy day yesterday I could definitely have a nap. But no relaxing just yet. Mr W has fashioned a barbell rack out of some timber and even though he keeps an eye on me, ya know in case I drop the solid metal bar on my face, it allows the feeling for control over your whole space. He added two 1kg weights to the baras last week’s set proved really quite simple. Straightening my back on the bench to keep my shoulders level, I raised the new weight of 9kg above my face and into the sky. Counting to five, I only wobbled at ‘3’. The weight isn’t the issue, the control of the motion becomes wobbly at times. I am not coordinated. It is, however, fascinating to breathe in and out to calm your mind so it can guide your body to control its own muscles. It takes you inside your being. I am finding it more interesting than I thought I would. That is, until a flock of seagulls flew overhead and I found my eyes following them.

Barbell deadlift next, 7kg bar with an added 6kgs of weight. Hello 13kg. Kept my arms straight this time, Mr W pointed out the extra weight would help with this technique and it did. This set is still really boring. Although, I imagine with more weight, all in good time, this will become more challenging and therefore enjoyable. 

Barbell overhead press, 4kg was removed here, very smart considering the bar would be above my face while I stood beneath it. Up, down, up, down. All very good and almost… ah, I’m going to say it, fun. I found my control here at its best and therefore I was able to move my arms faster than the other workouts. This was also the case for the ‘row’ movements. 

It feels good to be moving my body, feeling the after effects and yet still really enjoying it. I am working with my body and I don’t feel like I am punishing it. I wonder if there will be a day when I look back at this and utter the words, ‘oh you naive fool.’