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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

Travelling after a pandemic

Other than Italy in September 2020, we have not left the country since October 2019. There is no denial that our trip in September 2020 was incredible. The freedom we felt travelling was second to none. We were so lucky and I know we experienced an Italy that few get to see. Virtually empty, the streets were pleasant to wander in and yet a stark reminder of what the world was enduring. (Links to the Italy trip are at the bottom of this piece.)

Since then we have dabbled in travelling the UK. I set my first foot into Scotland and we have been to Northumberland three times. I truly believe that we have travelled more of the UK than ever due to the pandemic. It begs the question, would we have done so otherwise?

In only a few weeks we’ll be spending two weeks in Scotland travelling the NC500 and it’ll be our biggest and most involved trip ever as a couple. It will challenge our body capabilities and sense of perseverance more than any other joint trip together. And we are so excited! Together we have my stubbornness and his positivity, I have no doubt that we will meet and complete every challenge head on!

Owing to the fact that the world is becoming a less scary place and feeling the need to completely shut down, we want to book a trip away to do nothing. As amazing as our last few trips have been, we have started to realise that we do not stop. When we travel we go full throttle. Up early, on the go all day, physical challenges and often have late nights. Most of the time this is true for life at home. We have a very busy social life and even busier time going out for the day and enjoying every minute of our weekends together. I am sitting here reminding myself that these busy times are NOT to be seen as chores and they are there to be enjoyed. It is a change of mind that is necessary to stop the ‘we’re always busy’ thought pattern. Yes, we are busy, but it’s not something to moan about, it is something to enjoy. We have taken to blocking out days and at times full weekends in order to force ourselves to stay home and spend time in the house we love. It has helped us massively. 

It is only recently, with the hot weather, we have started to consider travelling abroad again. In the past we have spent time renting a villa and car in Majorca and deciding if and when we want to explore when we get there. Just the other day I was saying to Mr W how much joy I find in shopping for groceries when we are on the island. We often land in Palma, go to the car rental office and then head to the supermarket. It is so relaxing. There aren’t too many people, the food is so fresh and I find that we eat so much healthier when in a hot country. Fresh, crunchy salads and lots of crisp, sweet fruit. Eating is more intuitive than at home because we aren’t parked in front of a tv. There will be nights sat out on the terrace in the cool temperature and no wondering what needs to be done on a list of household chores. 

We have never done one of these trips alone and we’ve discussed it a fair few times. So in our talks regarding 2023 travels we have come up with a plan to have one relaxing trip and then an extended backpacking trip. Possibly in Italy. (Watch this space.)

With a relaxing trip in mind, we once again returned to the idea of renting a villa. Just us. On one of our coffee mornings in bed we started (meaning me) collecting prices and putting together a rough budget for said trip. We found a lovely little villa on the outskirts of Pollensa within our budget and set about looking at dates and flights. By now we know where to look for the villa, car and flights so it feels like a really easy process. 

As of two days ago it seemed it was full steam ahead and after the recent heatwave you may have some understanding of how exciting it will be to be able to escape the Spanish sun by jumping in the pool or retreating into the arctic air that is pumped out by the air-con. Oh how the UK needs to adopt the air conditioning movement of other countries!

With the restrictions in place over the past 2.5 years and all the recent chaos in airports around the world we have started wondering when it will be the right time to travel again. It has transported me back to March 2020. Our impending trip to Italy had been cancelled and most of the money was tied up in vouchers to be used within a year. I did not like the outlook. How could the biggest pandemic this generation had ever known be over within a year? So, with a ‘sodd it’ yet cautious attitude we rebooked our trip just 6 weeks ahead of the September travel time. And it worked out amazingly. We did not need to take covid tests, there was no extra paperwork and restrictions were at their worst, wearing a mask in all public areas.  

Yesterday our minds made up, budget set and a very similar ‘sodd it’ like attitude, I secured our house sitter and sat down to click those all consuming ‘confirm’ buttons. There are so few restrictions now that it’s down to the individual to whether they wear a mask and most countries, especially in Europe, require proof of vaccination rather than a clear PCR test. Sometimes you do need to do a PCR test which is always a bit risky but Spain has three requirements, only one of which you need to fulfil. We fulfil our one by being vaccinated. 

So I sat down to book the trip. Flights. Villa. Insurance. 

And then the provider sucker punched me through my laptop screen. In the space of 6 hours the price of the villa had increased by 30%. I mean, come on! This has completely derailed our budget and after checking out other providers it seems it is an industry wide increase. So I send this question out into the void of the internet. Why? What has happened to suddenly skyrocket the prices?

I spent the better part of an hour this morning having a look around and can’t seem to find a reason. So for now, I’m sitting back and waiting. Something I really hate to do but finding a sense of growth in myself that never used to be there. The patience will surely pay off when I find a villa that hasn’t slapped our budget all over the show. 

Until then I will remind myself that travelling is a privilege not an entitlement. Maybe I need to plan a UK break within the same budget parameters just in case? If I open the car window and feel the wind in my hair I can pretend that I am soaring above the clouds. Although… windows don’t open on planes. The plan is flawed. But I’ll do it all the same!

A piece of Pisa
Faith in Florence
Food and fretting in Florence
Hot chocolate in the clouds
Final frolics in Florence
Stories of Venice – Part one
Stories of Venice – Part two
Stories of Venice part three
Hindhope Linn
A hop, skip and a fracture.
Donuts
Northumberland in 4 days

Itinerary: A long weekend in Florence

It’s been a while since our trip to Italy, but I’m feeling the massive need to travel at the moment. However with our pending trip to Scotland growing ever closer and ya know… Covid, money, flight chaos in Europe and time, we won’t be on a plane anytime soon. I do miss it, I even miss the little tour of the airport you do before boarding! The completely pointless purchases and of course the 6am breakfast at wetherspoons, just because.

So check out my mini itinerary below for a weekend trip to Florence. I’ll do an add on itinerary for Venice should you want to extend your stay or just visit one day!

All links to the websites I used can be found at the bottom of the page.

Links:

https://www.thetrainline.com/

You will be able to find the train from Pisa to Florence on this website. Top tip – you can see who the carrier is when finding the train, check their website to see if they are offering the same train at a cheaper price! You can also download your ticket to your phone to make it easier and more sustainable.

http://ticketsmuseums.comune.fi.it/1_museo-di-palazzo-vecchio/

Be careful which ticket you choose. You want the Torre di Arnolfo. 

https://www.hop-on-hop-off-bus.com/florence/hop-on-hop-off-tour-of-florence_5151

Choose the ticket that suits you best, there are 24/48/72 hour options, which means less walking and maximum time at each location. I could not recommend doing a bus tour more in a new city! There is also an option to have your tickets on your phone. 

https://webshop.b-ticket.com/webshop/webticket/eventlist

This is the link for the Boboli Gardens. Tickets must be picked up on site. Allow for plenty of time so you don’t feel rushed as the time slots are quite small for entry. 

www.booking.com

We stayed in the Martelli Apartments and I found the room to be large in comparison to the European standard. The bathroom was absolutely great and the apartment is right on top of the Piazza della Repubblica. There are a variety of restaurants right outside that bring the night-time to life and yet the apartment was quiet for a great night’s sleep. The reception is a short walk away which makes for an easy pick up for your key.

So there it is. 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. I’ve also been able to review how long everything takes. Take this guide as one that will tire you but not exhaust you!

As promised I’ll soon add our Venice itinerary. That one did not change much at all. The link below is for the blogs where I discuss the trip to Florence in full detail. Maybe it’ll convince you all the more to book those tickets?

Ciao!

A piece of Pisa
Faith in Florence
Food and fretting in Florence
Hot chocolate in the clouds
Final frolics in Florence

Northumberland in 4 days

So, as you may have seen, we’ve been in Northumberland on a little holiday recently and I thought I’d share my initial itinerary with you. So that’s below, in its most basic forms…

After the first itinerary I’m going to tell you all about the changes I would make and then create a brand new itinerary for you to follow should you ever want to visit one of the Uk’s most magical areas!

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Edits:

DAY ONE.

Arriving into Alnwick as early as possible would be great for the sake of seeing the gardens to their full extent. The poison garden is absolutely awesome and even though I’m not a tour type of person, it is a must as there are government regulations concerning the Class A, B and C drug plants they have on site. The central fountain and serpentine interactive fountains are just so much fun. The ornamental garden at the top of the site is just absolutely stunning, I recommend taking a book and a sandwich so after you wander you can find a bench and enjoy the tranquil sounds of the streams of water bubbling over their pebbly paths. There are some huge shaded tunnels which are perfect to hide away from the midday sun and yet enjoy the views over the gardens. If you choose to go to the gardens I think you should give a good four to five hours to immerse yourself completely. When buying a ticket for the gardens you can use the Pavilion restaurant which has a beautiful outdoor seating area. The food and drink on offer is tasty enough but light, so as we planned to have dinner here, I now know this is not possible. Also, if you choose to visit Alnwick Castle and not the gardens you cannot go into the Pavilion restaurant, however The Bakery located just outside the entrance to the Alnwick Gardens serves the same food. So don’t despair too much! Should you choose to go into the Castle I believe you only need two or so hours. Which means you can start your day later or spend more time in the town!

After leaving your entrance of choice, I recommend a visit to Barter books, if you choose to use the car park I mention, it’s not too far a walk. The car park closes for new cars at 4/5pm, but they leave the exit open so you can park all day without a worry. It is £3 for the whole day which I think is really reasonable.

Barter books is a used book shop housed in an old train station and it is phenomenal! Nothing about the actual building has changed and everything feels so traditional and unchanged, mainly because it is!

There is a tearoom in the old waiting room, and even on our second visit to this place we have missed its opening hours. So, another itinerary edit is to make sure you get there before it’s 6pm closing time! After this you have an hour to look around the building and make sure to look UP in the second room as you enter. It is an absolutely stunning building and I wouldn’t hesitate to go back when in the area! 

DAY TWO

Honestly, when I say have a big breakfast I mean it. The weather changes rapidly in Northumberland and if it’s raining your body is going to need the pep up to keep you moving. IF it’s sunny, you are going to sweat! So good food and slot of fluids! We take our metal drinks bottles or a 2L reusable bottle on our trips and refill them regularly from a 5 litre bottle we keep in the car. Keep hydrated!

We stay in Bellingham when we are in the National Park, it works nicely with visiting Kielder, accessing the petrol station in the village and is only 25 minutes from the A1. There are lots of areas to stay in the National Park and each have their own merits. Most will be self catering so check out the locations for shops for supplies. On this trip we had a lodge in Bellingham and took all of our own food as the hotel shop nearby is a Co-op and they can be pricey at the best of times.

To get the best out of the Hareshaw Linn walk, start early to avoid the majority of all the visitors. Take a long pause at the end of the trail before making your return. There is a cave to sit in, stop and just listen to the waterfall. We allowed 4 hours for this walk, but I’d say it’s easy enough to finish with lots of breaks in 3 hours. These breaks are for the amazing scenes on each of the 6 bridges and the carefully selected locations for the benches. Make sure to keep an eye out for the elusive red squirrel. On both of our visits to this spot we have spotted squirrels and this time even saw a full size deer! Take your time and enjoy!

After your walk, take a short drive down to the amazing Tea on the Train experience to enjoy the home-made sandwiches, cakes and treas on offer. You will not regret it!

Now here is where things got extremely tight on time. The Kielder reservoir is enormous! and the Lakeside way walk is 26 miles long. With multiple art installations it is hard to just pick one. This was our second attempt to walk to the Silvalis Capitalis site and we were thwarted again. In order to do most of the walks in Kielder you need to buy a £5 car park ticket. The walks are long, rewarding but long! So bare this in mind. Buying a £5 all day parking ticket means you can use any of the Kielder car parks so moving around is easier for you should you want to have little wanders rather than do huge hikes.

Here I have changed the afternoon to include a smaller walk along the bottom of the Kielder reservoir. This will take in the Mirage deck installation, the minigolf at the Waterside Visitor Centre and a short 20 minute walk to Freya’s Hut. Give your 4 hours. It is a beautiful area. Keep a look out for wildlife. We saw chaffinches, sparrows and rabbits!

DAY THREE

This is a big choice of options. Option A will be a huge undertaking. 20 miles is a big deal and should not be taken lightly. You will need plenty of water, food, layers of clothing and perseverance. You’ll see slot of the Kielder installations and you will be tired! We will be undertaking this on our next visit and I will link my story back to this blog when we do!

Option B is going to be a lot easier and so much less daunting. The Minotaur maze is found at the Kielder Castle visitor centre. Something fun to get you alive and kicking for the day. There is a toilet block on site.

From here you can join the Forest Drive toll road. The toll is £3 and gives you permission to drive the 12 mile road that takes you through a dense working forest. Prepare to reach the 1500 metres at its highest point and make sure you stop at ‘The Nick’ to admire the views and the wind chill!

This is a simple day, but with so many pleasures. Visit Hindhope Linn, before exiting the toll road and make the very short 15 minute detour up to the Scottish border. To say you popped over to Scotland for an hour is something not many people can say. 15 minutes from the border is Jedburgh which gives you the perfect chance to stretch your legs before heading back to Northumberland. Use my tips for the most beautiful drive and scenic views. With a much smaller and intimate border crossing you’ll feel like you are sneaking back into England!

DAY FOUR

This really all depends on where you are driving home to. We live in Essex and found it to be a nice plan to break up the day. I’ve not changed any of this day as it worked out nicely. Dress up warm for Sycamore Gap as you will be battered by the elements! This walk is less about staircases and more about shingle slopes. It is strenuous but one of the more milder walks in the National Park. A fairly moderate stroll will have you complete the journey from the car park in 40-50 minutes.

Now check out the itinerary below for your final plan!

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Imagine

An ice cold drip runs off of an icicle that hangs from our porch roof. It is as strong as it is fragile. It’s very make-up is running off the end. Cool water that is being warmed by the air around it.  

The short sharp gust of cold air as you open the fridge. It chills your face and arms. It makes you want to pace the freezer aisle of the local supermarket. Maybe you could set yourself up there with a chair and a book. How long before you’re asked to vacate?

The blessed invention of air-conditioning. Hotel room, shop or in a car, it cools the skin to the bone. You feel ice cold. Chilled. Frosty. 

Jump into a deep pool and have your breath wrenched from your lungs. There is no heat here. Only frigid waters. Glacial with the impact of your body. Wait only a while to adjust and feel the heaven in its icy grip. 

The first sip of a drink with ice cubes in it. Intense on your lips, the temperature holds the promise of a break away from the surrounding humidity.

Jumping through a sprinkler.

The first lick of an ice lolly. Blue raspberry flavour. 

A less than warm shower.

A snowflake finding the tip of your nose.

The mist from a breaking wave upon the sea wall. 

Winter’s first snow fall.

An Icelandic waterfall crashing down upon rocks sending a spray of water your way.

Thick droplets of rain pummelling the pavement.

A water balloon bursting over bare skin. 

December winds that bite at your cheeks.

Frost on freshly cut grass.

A well aimed snowball to the face.

Imagine. 

The difference a day makes

Yesterday, after 4 hours of sleep, we forced ourselves out of the front door and into the car. The sun had been in the sky for less than 3 hours and it was shining brightly and extremely hot. Where we were heading called for little clothing but with the reward of being able to cool down.

Conversation was rapid fire as it often is with being over-tired and by the time we pulled into the car park we were raring to go.

As you may have gleaned from previous blogs I’m very uncomfortable in my own skin, hide my body away and this means I have not worn a swimming costume in the UK in over 23 years. Even abroad I’ve only worn one twice in the last 20 years. I usually wear a dress and roll down the straps. Or shorts and a t-shirt. Lately I’ve wanted to push myself to do things I’m scared of. So at 8am yesterday I took off my dress to reveal the swimming costume underneath and stepped onto the cool sand.

The tide was low but the water was cool. Not the gasp-inducing cool that takes your breath away, but the kind of cool that makes you say ‘ooo that’s nice’ and then venture on.

With a lot of slimy and slippery rocks in the water it was slow going and Mr W led me in one baby step at a time. The water felt amazing on my bare legs. Bare legs! Me!

The waves were gentle and before long we were thigh deep. We both agreed not being able to see the large rocks was disconcerting and took a moment to dip down in the water. I felt so free and happy. It was as if with each wave my fears were being cleansed away.

It helps that we were the only ones on the entire shoreline. I’m not naive to that exact fact. It was the reason we went so early. Crowded places, as you may have realised in ‘Panic at the concert’ (link below), are not something we take lightly. So if we can get up early enough to have a place to ourselves we will. It’s also wonderful to say you had a whole beach to yourself!

https://frameworktravel.home.blog/2022/07/16/panic-at-the-concert/

We watched the waves roll the sunlight about for a while longer and turned to walk back to our bags. My body carried itself lighter than ever before. It wasn’t hidden. And I wasn’t ready to cover up just yet.

Mr W took the bags up to the dryer part of the beach while I found a shallow pool of water. At first I sat in its depths feeling it cool my legs. I looked up and saw the odd dog walker on the cliffs. I chided myself for wanting to hide my body again. I splashed the water over myself to shut the thoughts up.

With a devil may care attitude I lay back in the pool and felt the water lap at my shoulders and neck. I knew that half the sandy beach would end up in my hair but I didn’t care. I was laying here, vulnerable and yet enjoying every second.

After 30 or so minutes the cool waters had reduced my skin to goosebumps and the warm sand was calling to me.

Standing up I slowly sauntered to the waiting beach towel. Arms by my side. Not folded. Shoulders back. Not hunched. Head up. Not face down.

I sat on the sand letting the morning sun dry my hair and warm me slowly. Mr W showed me the basics of flying his new drone and we smiled, laughed and talked of our impending trip to Scotland.

The anxiety of the night before felt a million miles away and I high-fived myself mentally. It sounds like such a small victory I know but imagine denying yourself the right to feel the sea on your skin without the cover of clothing for over 20 years.

Mr W and I are already looking for a less rocky beach to continue my carefree activities!

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

Panic at the concert

I used to work in Central London. Did you know that?

Monday to Friday, the Central Line at 7:30am, Holborn by 8:30am, navigating the streets of the city at rush hour. Squeezing myself into carriages on the way home, getting a seat maybe 5 stops from home. It was what I did. 

Something has changed. Whether it be covid or being out of the fray too long I’m really not sure. Since 2020 Mr W and I have actively avoided crowded places. It seemed logical in the beginning. Even in early 2021, it felt like the must-do action when living in a pandemic. As time wore on it became quite apparent that it was harder to integrate back into our old life. 

Or was it?

As you may have read in ‘Engaging moments’ (link below), my aversion to crowds has upset things before. Mr W’s proposal was meant to be in Rockefeller centre under the Christmas tree and yet before he could do the one-knee bend, I raced from the vicinity with a gusto I normally reserve for friendly dogs or rainbow chasing. The realisation of the crowd before me made my heart race and my palms sweat. Maybe if I had anticipated the mass of people I could have coped better. 

Engaging moments

Yesterday we went to Newmarket, dressed up pretty damn nicely, watched the horses, basked in the sun together and enjoyed every single minute. As the sun moved towards the horizon we made our way to the stage in the centre of the complex. Only four people deep in the crowd, the view of the stage was amazing. Forsaking the up front viewing of the last race we staked our claim for the next 2 and a half hours. Then my horse went and came 1st! Mr W moved away to grab my winnings while the crowds rolled in behind me. In a sea of people my nerves rolled in too. I held my ground as people jostled me, pushed past and generally looked past me. He was taking his time, the queues must have been long, and I soon started craning my neck to find him at the back of the swarm. 

After a few minutes I spotted him as he edged his way closer. Two particularly stubborn people ignored his polite ‘excuse me’s’ and I had to forsake our closer than close viewing spot and join him a few metres back. As soon as I took his hand. I felt calm. My breath returned to my chest.

10 minutes later The Script lit up the night. Live music, is there anything else more invigorating? As they played to the crowd the old feelings for music crept back. Music does not have the same place in my heart as it once did and I vowed there and then to listen to more. The crowd was full of energy and the festival vibe was definitely in the air. 40 or so minutes in, the band made their way into the fray and walked straight past me. It was exhilarating to be up close and personal to the band I have loved for 14 years. 

As they walked past and away the crowd let them through and then closed ranks. The jostling took an unexpected turn and I felt myself clamp down on Mr W’s hands. Something had sparked inside me and it took me a moment to calm down. The band played two songs at the rear of the enclosure and we took solace in the calmness at the new back of the crowd. And then they returned, it was a treat that they came back our way, but this time my body stalled in panic. The jostling would return. And it did but prepared for it I felt okay. 

The band continued their amazing set and the crowd went into hyperdrive. The setting sun cast an amber glow over the scene and I sang my heart out. Two of my favourite songs made tears spring from my eyes and Mr W took the camera owing to my need to dance along. 

In the moving crowd Mr W had gone from next to me to behind me. I was not complaining at 6ft tall he towers over me and with his arms at my side I felt the deepest sense of protection. As night fell so did the behaviour of the crowd and security had to rush into the mob as people became rowdier and frantic. A couple next to me were staggering on the spot, their elbows digging into my body but it was okay, his arms were around me. 

From somewhere behind I heard ‘Oh don’t you just have the best shoulders.’ and then Mr W’s muffled voice returned the conversation. My head whipped round to find a slurring woman engaging with the compliment. I am not a stranger to Mr W getting compliments, he is an extremely handsome man, a damn right silver fox and yes his shoulders and arms are incredible. It was four years ago that we went to an extremely young club to celebrate a family’s birthday. At 30 years old I was years older than the teeny boppers in situ and at 8 years older than me (you do the maths) Mr W was definitely noticing a change since his last time in a similar venue. As we sipped our drinks by the bar he made a comment to me like ‘my god I feel old’, I smiled and carried on my chatter. From behind me an arm reached over my shoulder, patted him on the chest and shouted ‘you ain’t old’ in a twee girlish voice. I remember whipping my head round then to see what can only be described as a foetus in a plaid dress making doe eyes at my soon to be husband. In disbelief I laughed as the awkwardness set in on Mr W’s face. I felt the same last night. Turning around the woman was complimenting his shoulders and how he must be a swimmer and how lovely it was to see him protecting his wife. I smiled and uttered the taboo words of ‘I get really anxious’. 

Well the flood gates of her mouth opened as she announced that she worked in the NHS, saw anxiety all the time in her job and how she would tell people to ‘fuck off’ out my way if I needed her to. The truth was, her talking to me, drunk, had set my anxiety off worse than ever. I can’t do small talk and drunk people are a massive trigger for me. I nodded along and eventually passed the conversation over to my husband. He took it in his stride and entertained her for 10 minutes. I danced along to the music as best as I could while he squeezed my arms with our secret code of ‘omg what have we got ourselves into’. Asking me what my name was, the lady gave me a massive hug, a kiss on the cheek and danced off into the night. 

And then everything changed. All of a sudden his arms clamped around me and pulled me back. A fight had broken out just in front of us and 5 or 6 security guards had rushed in. The crowd had responded by backing up and into people. People being me. Before I even knew what had happened I had been pulled out of the melee and held tightly. I turned to ask what was going on and my anxiety sky-rocketed. I felt my hands start to shake. The music thudded through my chest and my heart met it with competitive beats. Holding up my phone for a photo I saw the screen shaking. I was losing it and the tears on my cheeks knew it. I put my hands on his hands on my waist and listened to the music. I sang as my heart rate slowed. Their final song came to an end and I cried for the beautiful night, the experience and the feelings of loss. Where was the brave person I once knew? 

As the crowd dispersed, a woman approached me and told me about a quicker exit from the area if I needed it. It was a beautiful gesture and I thanked her profusely. There needs to be more people like her. However, and this isn’t a bad thing, it only made me more aware than ever about how my problem has gotten worse. I stood for a moment enveloped in my husband’s arms and melted. I do not want to be like this. He held me and said he would never let anything happen to me. Ever. And I just stood there. Wondering how he could possibly stop the anxiety and the panic. And yet I knew he couldn’t. He would hold my hand, guiding me through, sometimes backwards but mostly forwards. And at my pace. Whether it made sense or not.

After a slow walk to the car, I felt my equilibrium return and decided to turn the ‘ordeal’ of the evening in my favour. The band was amazing. Mr W had finally seen them live with me. The night air was warm and calm. My new dress fit the bill. And I hadn’t walked away. This wasn’t Rockefeller Centre. This was louder, more frantic and yet I stayed. I could have left but I didn’t. It is a win. However small the victory seems. 

Be kind to yourself. Don’t hide away something that is a part of you. It is a part of you. Not all of you.

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

Taking flight

Spontaneity is a dream of mine that never really has a chance to happen. Whether it be money, anxiety or time it always falls by the wayside. 

When visiting Australia in 2013 I picked up a guide to Melbourne at the airport and found several vouchers offering 10% off here and a free gift there. I’ve never really seen the point in free vouchers because they often have a read between the lines agreement. However one stood out to me and we had kept at least half a day free in each place so we could explore. The 2 for 1 voucher was for a Yarra river cruise and I was excited to see the city from the water. I do love boats!

I had already looked into the cruises from home but they didn’t really appeal. Maybe it was the fact it took us off our feet and yet we would still see the city. At $29 for both of us it wasn’t something to sniff at. The boat ride wouldn’t take long and it looked like a great way to while away a few hours. After a pleasant tour down river we docked at Gem Pier in Williamstown; a quaint little village which used to be Melbourne’s main port before its size couldn’t cope with the intake. With a short time to kill we headed into the main street until an enticing sign caught our eye.

Next thing I know we are onboard a four seater seaplane flying over the beaches of St Kilda and Port Phillip. There seemed to be a devil may care attitude on our second day in Australia and the short trip cost us $145 each. Brighton beach had amazingly colourful beach huts which took me back to the seaside boltholes we had back in the UK. Similarly to home, these cost a huge amount of money, some at $400,000!  The views were stunning and the pilot was a hoot. His name was Rodney and I was reminded of the nickname my dad had given Mr W the first time he had met him.  We saw our hotel from the air and the Melbourne Gran Prix track was pointed out. The budget was tight and I knew I’d be on rations for a while but wearing a headset to talk to each other while in flight was brilliant and when the plane turned on its side I felt my cares melt away. The short 10 minute flight was over so fast and soon enough the plane was bumping over the rolling waves. All smiles we walked back into Williamstown and grabbed a quick fish and chip lunch. We sat in a pavilion to avoid the sea birds and took in the scene. 

It is a moment that wasn’t marred by anxiety or questioning. I think of it fondly when I see a plane in the sky and when I see waves lapping against a shore. A moment long ago that gives me promise for spontaneous times ahead. Over and out.  

Frame of mind

Over dinner, I told Mr W how I had entered a competition to win £300,000. And as you can probably guess, the talk soon turned into what we would do with the money should we win. 

Him: We’d buy that van we want and do it up.

Me: The first thing I’d do is book an all inclusive holiday. Somewhere hot, with a pool and a beach. 

How different are those answers? Seriously. And yet my answer changes from day to day where Mr W’s doesn’t. The last year and a half has changed so much in the terms of us travelling that it’s hard to think of how to revert back. Travel has become so much about being budget conscious, thinking sustainably and staying in the UK. It’s definitely a question nowadays as to whether we could sit by a pool and stay still. 

On our first holiday together we booked the very typical beach/pool/all inclusive deal. Having become accustomed to those types of trips during my childhood I was looking forward to leaving my brain at the office and watching my freckles connect. Even in October the heat in Tunisia was perfect and I looked forward to the sunlit days and warm evenings. Mr W had other ideas. He did not do well at sitting still. In fact on one of the few days we did sit poolside I could feel his eyes bore into me from his lounger. We soon jumped on a train to the next town to explore. I could see future trips being a wee bit tricky. I had found a balance between beach holidays where I did nothing and city breaks where I left no stone unturned. But there we were on a beach holiday in completely different frames of mind. 

We have since been to many beautiful places around the world. Barcelona, it rained for a whole week. New York at Christmas. The Maldives for our honeymoon. Iceland. Paris. Italy. The list goes on. However, other than an afternoon on the beach in Barcelona, we are yet to sit still. The only reason we actually sat still on that occasion was due to the sun showing its face after 6 days of rain. I believe we needed drying off. 

In no way am I complaining, our trips have been magical and whetted our appetites to further explore the countries of this world. Our next trip is the absolute definition of exploration. 15 jam packed days of adventure travel and I am totally here for it. I think in a way covid has made us push even harder to squeeze the minutes out of the hours of the days when we are out and about. It’s been 2.5 years of living that way and where I have loved it, I’m starting to miss the feeling of nothing. Of just being in a place. And I believe it’s to do with my frame of mind. 

I do not understand how the heat in the UK feels so different to the heat abroad. People say the houses are built differently. Okay, so why when I sit outside do I feel like I might burst into flames? When abroad it barely affects me. I can also proudly say that having finally experienced our teeny pool that it did help but why then does walking around Barcelona or Egypt and experiencing the heat full on, and without said help from dunking myself in water, not present the same problems as being here? So just what is it?  

As a result of these thoughts, I have spent my days daydreaming of the lazy holidays once more. And I think it goes deeper than just the difference in temperate climates. It’s being comfortable enough mentally to be able to stop. On our recent trip to Northumberland I pondered this while I sat in a cave next to a waterfall. We had lunch reservations at 2pm and yet had over two hours until then. The walk to the car from where we were would only take an hour and I sat in quiet thought trying to think of something to fill the time. It was only when I realised that having free time didn’t necessarily mean it had to be filled that I granted myself the permission to park my arse and be still. And so for an hour, we sat in the cave, with our snacks and watched the water cascade into the pool below. In that hour many other hikers arrived, most with dogs. The dogs practically leapt from the rocky ledge into the water and entertained all that had stopped. 

It reminded me of our walk to Sycamore Gap and how for me time stood still. It is unlike the walks you’ll find to the waterfalls of Hindhope and Hareshaw Linn. They are hidden amongst the trees and rolling hills of the Northumbrian landscape. The walk to Sycamore Gap is up and over the rolling hills. The landscape is all shingle, coarse grass and barren. You pass through a few gates where old walls break up your journey but ultimately it is unchallenging. It is only when you arrive at the most famous tree in the UK that you realise this walk wasn’t about the journey. It is about the destination. So many times do you hear in life that the journey is as important as the destination and in some cases the journey becomes more important altogether. Essentially the journey is longer than the time we spend at the destination and should therefore be enjoyed in order to feel more fulfilling. The tree sits upon Hadrian’s wall and is an iconic image known to everyone. Without even knowing its name or location, show the person next to you the image at the top of this blog and I guarantee nine out of ten people will recognise it. 

Upon our arrival to the tree, we waited patiently for our chance to photograph it without the intrusion of other hikers. Photos taken, I took a moment to climb the hill directly opposite the tree and sat for a while. The wind whistled in my ears and violently forced my hair to take flight. Above me the clouds threatened rain. Below me on the sides of the hill purple heather revealed its colour to roaming eyes. The tree was static in response to the wind. As the light from the cloud dotted sky changed the backdrop of the scene each moment felt like a picture perfect postcard. 

It was just me, sitting, watching and forgetting time. This is what I miss. The ability to take everything in and appreciate it without rushing off to the next thing to see. Covid has changed so much for this world. It has changed the world en masse and singularly. I’d like to think that at some point we will find a balance between sitting and running. Until then I will remember how blessed we are to be free enough to roam the world. 

Michaelmas Cay

Michaelmas Cay can be found just off the coast of Cairns, Australia. It forms part of the Michaelmas Reef in the much larger Great Barrier Reef of which I am sure you have heard of. When I think of paradise I often think of this place in particular. In all of my travels I am yet to find a whiter sand and a bluer sea. I guess I will have to keep trying!

Our time in Cairns was much like a love story. Everything felt so perfect. From the hotel you could see the man made lagoon in which you could relax and cool off from the humidity of the day. Beyond that there was the Coral Sea with all its beauty and danger. The beauty, again I’m sure, does not need explaining. But the danger, well, you wouldn’t like to go swimming in it. The mangroves of the surrounding marshes are the perfect habitat for Australia’s creatures. They buffer the waves of the sea and make it a safer place to live. The roots of the mangroves arc and twist their way into the waters and from the surface look like nests. A perfect hiding place for the animals that call it home. Crocodiles and jellyfish come and go easily between the sea and marshes and swimming in both is strictly prohibited. Hence the man-made lagoon. I did not have to be told twice!

On one particular trip we jumped aboard a catamaran, ‘Ocean Spirit Cruise’, to be exact and headed out into the unknown. The water we were gliding on was the deepest blue I’ve ever seen and yet so light in the sun that it felt only metres deep. I have often tried to explain the colour to people and fall short, but just now, it has hit me. The water was like a sapphire. A sapphire that had caught the light. Glistening and all so encapsulating. Looking down into the water, my stomach dropped as I saw a white plastic bag floating in the waters. We were then alerted by the captain to all the jellyfish that were alongside us in the waves. Ah, so not plastic, just a terrifying floating death machine. Okie dokie. There were hundreds of them. Not huge in size, but large in numbers. Did I really want to go into the water today?

The wind whipped my hair around my face as the sun rose in the sky and I thought about our destination. A small sandy island from which to swim. Wetsuits and flippers on, we stepped from the sand into the shallow waters. The scene was crystal clear as we swam over the white sands of the seabed. Ahead there were small schools of fish. Shaped like Angel fish and pearlescent my eye was drawn to their beauty until their flittish nature made them dart away. I remember swimming lazily in the cool waters long enough that I wondered how far I had drifted. Righting myself, I gazed around to find myself only 30 metres or so from the island. The water hadn’t got much deeper and yet a turtle found it necessary to check out the commotion. He was fast. Much faster than I and once I spotted a jellyfish I knew it was time to take a breather. Swimming back to the shore was very lazy indeed and when I felt the seabed brush against my stomach I realised it was shallow enough to stand. 

On the beach, the sand was as cool to the touch as the sea was. The wind was carrying away the heat of the day and I wondered what my face would look like later on. Sunkissed or cousin to a beetroot. As tranquil as the waters were is how deafening the beach was. The island is a major nesting sight for a variety of terns and at my best guess I would say there were over 2000 birds. They lined up along the sands like soldiers. The beach rose from the waves for about 4 metres until a rope drew the line between us and them. We were guests. They were home. I found that it did not detract from the day. It only made it all the more tangible. It felt as if we had been plonked into a storyline of this country. Between the water, the waves and the nature we had one of the most beautiful snapshots to take home. The atmosphere was electric with life. 

To prove that all life was here a tern found its way to our shadows on the sand. It was not scared. It did not want to move away. As this was a nature reserve we knew it would be wrong to touch it. For the briefest of moments, we acknowledged that the bird was probably ill. And so we left it alone in our shadows. It had found peace and when we left, the on-site ranger took it from the sand and placed it beyond the rope. To this day I remember the life and death cycle of that island and how much it taught me to be in the moment. That we are all linked. It was a very humbling experience and it felt like time had slowed down. The white noise of the squawking birds and the breaking waves became a dome around us and our thoughts. I did not feel sad or happy, but a realisation of how much we can experience in such a short amount of time. 

Back on the boat, we waved goodbye to the Great Barrier Reef and the Coral Sea. It would be the last time we would see its waters. As the boat pulled away from the Cay, its small stature disappeared as the waves rose above it and the horizon pulled it from view. 

To divert attention away from our last night in Queensland, we visited the lagoon to cool off. It was busy and we found ourselves sitting and sharing the silence of our thoughts. Not too long after arrival the clouds sent down a heavy rain and the lagoon’s occupants raced for the shelter of the trees. I remember wondering why they were avoiding the rain whilst swimming in a lagoon. Wet is wet right? 

Suitably cool enough, we turned our backs on the two waters of Cairns and headed to our hotel to pack. The day had left us with a lot of love for Australia and its inhabitants. A lot of love, awe and true humility.