Category: Uncategorized

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.’

Humble happenings

Today we finally made it to Cambridge! Mini solo-mexican wave in celebration.

I have announced, proclaimed and warned you before dear reader that I have not travelled much within the UK. Although I realised today that’s quite untrue. Having worked in the travel industry for a number of years and creating itineraries for the ‘must-see’ sites I have become used to the well trodden tourist hotspots of this island we call Great Britain. You’ve got Brighton and its lanes, Canterbury and its cathedral, Cambridge and its colleges, Hastings and its coastline and those are just the easy ‘to access’ places if you are staying in London. England has these pockets of ‘typique’ that Americans love so much. When I spoke to the Professors from a college in New York or Ohio for example the requests were very much in line with the above places. They loved the sea side experience of fish and chips and ice cream on a pier. The university campuses steeped in history. Punts down river in a funny little boat. The enormous churches plopped in a tiny town with winding village pathways. 

I’ve never truly understood the appeal. Outside of these places I have travelled to Cornwall, Devon, Dorset, Edinburgh, Northumberland (oh yes, our new go to holiday spot!), Norfolk and the Peak District. It’s eluded me for so long why I should travel in the UK when there’s such a big world outside its borders. And then covid, I won’t continue to harp on about how it changed how I/we travel, let’s just move on. 

So, Cambridge, we booked a treasure hunt using a voucher we received at Christmas and dedicated a day to explore and relish in what others had called one of their ‘favourite’ places. As it is only an hour away, I’m bemused to find it has taken us over 6 years to go if I’m honest. Mr W has a rule, if within a 100 miles, a place is doable on a single day to visit. This means we don’t have to go away for a weekend just to ‘see’ places. Often enough a day is all you need or it gives you enough of a taster to return at another time. 

On arrival the sun and wind were battling over who would reign supreme and I found myself windswept and sticky. Wearing a dress in the wind is not a nice experience for someone who is conscious of their body shape and I find myself retreating into my mind for comfort while avoiding the eyes of passersby. We found ourselves pausing on our tour to have a coffee as the morning blood test (one of many that the NHS requires from me) and late night had left me zombie-like. As the coffee cooled I found myself talking to Mr W about how different we feel about spending money on everything and anything these days. Especially travel. I have found it equally frustrating and amusing how without enough research prices of a hotel or excursion can be taken as gospel when around the corner there are often the cheaper and original prices to be taken advantage of. We spoke at length about several people in our lives that say the way we travel, and will travel in Scotland, must be so stressful. And yet, it’s how we save money and get the most out of our time. Packing the car up with two weeks of food takes a lot of thinking and preparation, especially when you want to be as sustainable as possible,  but it means we can eat on route to these glorious places we’ll visit and spend very little per meal. I’m not sure whether I get defensive when people don’t understand, I don’t think I do, I just think it’s a different frame of mind. 12 years ago I would never have dreamed of eating a pot noodle in a car for dinner when on holiday, but then, 12 years ago I would not have been hiking 5 miles to a wild beach either. Times change. 

With the world put to rights, we continued on our way into the heart of Cambridge. It was very busy and I was astonished at just how many bikes there were. This may have something to do with the parking prices which I’m shocked to say rivalled London as some of the most expensive I’ve ever seen. 

Mr W led the way and we found ourselves in the heart of the town and on market day! Fruit and veg stalls lined the space along with street food huts. To see a bustling market transports me to Spain on a sunday and I couldn’t resist buying some flat peaches so I could close my eyes for a second and just pretend. A man in a khaki green shirt sat on the pavement, leaning his back against a brick wall and painted the scene before him on a large sketchpad. No easel. No big display. Just him, his pad, a small paint palette and the town before him. I stopped to watch him for a while. He seemed so at ease. 

From the market we walked to market hill with its sweeping curved walkway strewn with bunting and the hum of the late morning visitors. Shops and restaurants took over the ground floors of the townhouses while the upper levels showcased their window boxes filled with red, white and blue flowers and small union jack flags. The sash windows with their white frames harking back to the Georgian era I love so much. Oh to be up there, pushing the window up so you can lean out and glance at the street below. I kind of see why these pockets of England are so entrancing to tourists from abroad. 

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The architecture that leapt out from alleyways demanded my attention and they got it. Old chimneys lined up, straight as soldiers and big arched windows cutting through the straight lines of bricks. Just wandering around reminded me of how simple a day out can be. 

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We found our way to Garret Hostel Bridge and paused to look down at the River Cam. So many boats littered the water and families gathered to join in the fun. There is something to be said for highlights of a place and punting is definitely Cambridge’s. Similar to the gondolas of Venice, you go to Cambridge for a punt! Continuing our way across the bridge we turned left on Queen’s road and took in the views of Trinity college and the sun scorched fields. It was good to just be somewhere new and not having to find any particular love or like for the day, but taking those moments to enjoy it for what it was. 

We had a quick lunch to escape the heat of the day, use the facilities, and wandered back to our waiting chariot. I had seen something earlier on the map and flabbergasted that it even existed, wanted to check it out. Just 15 minutes out of the main town is the Cambridge American cemetery. 

Upon arrival we found only one other vehicle parked in the small, beautiful car park. Enormous trees towered over us as a tall wall with a cut out gateway beckoned us forward. Old met new with the QR code readily available at the entrance making an information leaflet readily available to visitors. Stepping through the brick boundary we were greeted with a bright building at the end of long skinny pools. The leaflet explained this was a remembrance chapel and the pools designed for reflecting. At the opposite end of the line of sight was a flagpole and its U.S fabric inhabitant flapping in the breeze. The space was completely silent. The bustling town of Cambridge felt a million miles away. We had been transported to America in less than 2 seconds. The whole space was vastly different from any other space I’d seen in the UK.

The hedges were absolutely uniform with their straight edges and sharp corners. The huge stone bricks that bore the words of memoriam were as bright as the afternoon sun. The entire space was silent and yet spoke untold secrets from WWII. Under the green grass, laid to rest, were over 3800 soldiers who called the UK their home base during the war. Having died in service they were returned here to their final rest. Atop the graves white marble crosses stood simply and in stark contrast to the green blades of the plant world around them. From the reflecting pools, the sloping fields were pin pricked with these crosses. It is hands down one of the most astounding sites I have come to witness. 

Tearing my eyes from the field before me, I turned to look at the wall of names. Over 5100 names had been meticulously carved into the portland stone. Their town of residence in America followed their specialisation within their field. At the end of the Wall of Missing stood a pillar, on this was carved a simple explanation of what the wall was. At the end of the paragraph were the words ‘gave their lives in the service of their country and who sleep in unknown graves’. 

My breath caught in my chest. Over 5100 people lost forever to war. To fight not just for their country but this country. Not even their home country. Going out of choice. To protect our liberty. I wondered why a tear slipped down my cheek. I did not know these people. But these people were the reason I could wander so freely today. 

There are other spaces in the cemetery that I could describe to you. I am not going to. 

I have to, I’m afraid, leave those spaces for you to seek out. After learning one soldier’s story; how he died one month after deployment and how his wife found out two long years later, I knew I had not prepared or understood how emotive this place was going to be. 

I acknowledged the humbling happening upon this place and we head home. 

Work it out

As someone who needs to lose weight to qualify for fertility help from the NHS, who is trying to love herself and also keep exercising while keeping it as low impact as possible whilst recognising that it also needs to burn fat, you can imagine working out is really quite a challenge. 

The NHS wants my BMI to be lower in order for me to qualify for the next stage of fertility help. The medication I hope they give me will force my ovaries to release eggs at the opportune time in the hopes that I’ll fall pregnant. 

Having hated my body since I can remember I have recently discovered a podcast where loving yourself is the name of the game no matter what size and shape you are. (Link below) Their very motto is ‘the way you look is the least interesting thing about you’. As you can imagine it takes a lot to recondition your mind after 25+ years of self hatred. I’m no way near loving myself but I am starting to realise that my value has nothing to do with my weight. My thoughts, kindness and ability to love is not weighed on the bathroom scales. It is not in my dress size. I have touched on this before in my ‘Wear the damn shorts’ blog. (Link also below). Recently I have branched ever so slightly outside of my comfort zone when it comes to clothing. Granted I’m wearing dresses but I’m actually liking the clothes I am wearing rather than picking them just because they fit. 

Due to my everlasting need to find the best way to live with my Pcos I have spent a rather large amount of time on forums etc. There are pages of advice on supplements and tips to lessen the symptoms of this condition. One of the symptoms is weight gain and in order to control this weight there are several things you can try. There is no guarantee. If you want to lose weight there are many trialled and tested tips out there and you just have to see what works for you. Last year, Mr W and I conquered the NHS couch to 5k programme. I was so chuffed with myself. I finished without any wobbles. We restarted the programme this year and,  whether it was my body or mind, I simply could not do it. No amount of telling myself I had done it once before, meaning I could do it again, could break through the self doubt barrier and I stopped. I’ve looked closer at exercises and workouts I can do that won’t place stress on the cells of my bodys, causing more flare ups of this condition, and Mr W and I have started weight training. The key, apparently,is to do low impact workouts for a maximum of 15 minutes. No wonder running for up to 30 minutes wasn’t doing anything for me. Go figure. 

It is quite the conundrum. Love myself regardless of my weight. Change my weight to suit the bureaucracy of the NHS. And find the perfect exercise that will keep me interested, losing weight and my body stress free. 

Mr W compiled the below information for me to look at:

A 5×5 workout comprises compound barbell movements — like squats and deadlifts — using heavy weights and lower repetitions per set. As the name implies, a 5×5 workout usually involves 5 sets of 5 repetitions.

The goal is to build strength in compound movements by adding weight every time you do the workout. You’ll only do these workouts 3 times a week, as the rest days in between workouts are crucial to encouraging muscle growth.

The barbell movements are as follows:

barbell back squat

barbell bench press

barbell deadlift

barbell overhead press

barbell row

The combination of these movements works most of the large muscles in your body.

So if you are into weight training, the above will make sense to you and you may as well skip the next few paragraphs. So a barbell is a long bar of metal on which you can fix weighted discs of metal. Our barbell is 7kgs and while I get used to the exercises themselves we are just using the bar. In time, weight will gradually be added to increase the training. 

At present, Mr W does 5 reps of the first exercise, then I do 5, then him and so on until we have each completed the 5 sets of repetitions. Then we move onto the next exercise.  

Barbell back squat – this involves the bar being held around the back of your head, across the top of your shoulders while you squat. This workout is a bitch. After two sessions my muscles on the topside of my thighs are screaming! Walking up and down the stairs, even sitting down, is not fun right now, but I’m kind of glad of the pain. It makes me realise the workout is actually doing its thing! 

Barbell bench press – this one has you laying down on a workout bench and lifting the barbell up above your body and down again. So far, it’s not too bad, I’m not sure if my body is feeling the benefits and it may mean adding weights to the bar sooner rather than later. The biggest flaw right now is keeping the bar straight. All in good time!

Barbell deadlift – now, this move I could not get my head around. You are basically lifting the bar from ankle height (in the future when weights are on either end, the weighted bar will be able to sit on the ground) and lifting it to your hips. Keeping your arms straight and bringing your hips forward to meet the bar. It is supposed to loosen your hips. In our first session I couldn’t get my head around the straight arms before seeing that my back was also straight. In order to achieve the move, you need to slightly bend your back and knees. Before straightening fully. Today’s second session was much easier. Eureka!

Barbell overhead press – relatively easy now, but i know once weight is added, I’ll regret saying it. You stand straight and lift the bar from your shoulders straight up into the sky. As we stand in the garden, I am able to watch its progress as it meets the sky and my eyes line it up with the roofline of our house. Slow and steady.

Barbell row – so far this move has stumped me. It doesn’t feel like my body is working to achieve it. You stand legs straight, bent over at the waist. Barbell in hand you move it towards the ground and back to your chest in a rowing motion. In order to not fall over, it helps to raise your head slightly. We watch ourselves in the large window in front of us and it definitely helps. Today, I moved my hands further inwards, towards the middle of the bar, and I felt the muscles in my shoulders working. 

After our second session, my second ever, I can say I am finding it enjoyable. Nothing gets in the way, no bouncing boobs are threatening to derail my balance. There are no threats of a dodgy pothole making me fall. I am in complete control of the bar and it makes me feel so much more connected to my body. Running took me outside my body and all I saw was my legs acting of their own accord. I was connected only to doubt. With the bar I am in charge. The pains in my legs will hopefully subside and I like to think that as my interest and ability grows then so will my confidence in intuitive movement. I want it to feel good to exercise because then there is then more chance that I will stick to it. Right now, I am seeing it as a challenge. I just have to work it out. 

Go Love Yourself
Wear the damn shorts. Exclamation point.


Why?

Why do we travel?

We spend so much time planning, paying towards and dreaming about the next trip that I sometimes wonder if we have ever stopped to ask why. If anyone grew up travelling they were and are exceptionally lucky, but in my younger years it became ‘normal’ to have at least one trip abroad per year. Is the time we spend travelling worthy of the minutes of our life if we take it for granted? I know for a fact, that money aside, I greatly appreciate travelling now because it is not a given anymore. Covid saw to that. Having different responsibilities as an adult will show you how very lucky you were to travel when your parents were in control. How my parents were able to plan and afford our big family holidays for 3 kids once a year is astonishing. If anything, travelling isn’t a given now nor was it 20/30 years ago, catering towards your children is both a beautiful and difficult affliction of being a parent. I have a friend that says she feels like she is depriving her child of something should she not take him abroad. It would stem from these actions the very thought that travel is an entitlement. So is that where the travel bug came from, the delusion that travel is a right? 

Both of my parents have travelled extensively and spending summers with them abroad and in turn watching them travel to lands afar has left an imprint of a similar nature on me. Nowadays our travels are vastly different, but the idea and first learnings of travel is something that came from them. I would say that is something that most people would agree with. We become accustomed to a certain lifestyle because we grew up within it. And yet, on my mothers side, my grandparents did not leave the UK, they would travel the seasides of Great Britain and occasionally venture to the Isle of Wight. I never knew why, it is a shame, it would have been a wonderful little tidbit to include here, but it does beg the question that if they never travelled, how did my mother get the travel ‘bug’? Is it a case of wanting something you never had? Seeing a plane in the sky and wondering… 

I sometimes wonder about people who don’t feel the urge to travel. Or do they not feel the need to explore? Is it fear? Or are they just happy? Are they simply happy with their lot? How fantastic it must feel not to run or need more. To feel joy and peace keeping your feet still. This theory is in relation to my grandparents, who if they wanted to could have found themselves in Europe without too many worries about money, but it goes without saying there are people out there who would love to travel and can’t due to shortage of funds. This doesn’t answer the question of not feeling the urge to travel, the urge is there, but the facilities aren’t.

So if travel is something to appease our inner explorer it would seem we have answered the very question posed at the top of this piece. But then, what if we don’t give a hoot about where we travel, we don’t plan, we just book and go. What then?

In my gap year, I spent weekends working my part time job and weekdays gathering up all the overtime I could to turn the money into plane tickets. I spent the better part of that year travelling. I left the country 7 or 8 times. That is what a gap year is for right? I went to Dublin, Spain, New York, to name a few and I’d love to say it was to explore and get a feel of the world. I realise now that with University looming and my choice to go confusing me, I felt the need to run away from the very impending reality of further education. I believe that year was spent running away from adulthood and travel being about escaping rather than exploring. 

However now, with no reason to run, my need to travel comes from a very real place of being the best version of myself. When I am out in the world, following the map in my head and immersing myself in the pictures I have only till then seen in magazines, I feel a sense of absolute joy. I know I am the best ‘me’ when I am out there. Seeking, finding, experiencing. It would seem that selfishly, I yearn to travel for selfish reasons. It seems almost narcissistic to travel the world to fulfil my potential as a ‘nice’ human being. I am nice at home, that is without question. I’ll be the first to point out that I am a nice person almost as a default, I do not know how to act any other way, so it isn’t a case of travel making me nice in relation to others. Travel gives me such a confidence that makes me feel good just for me. I feel happy being me. It gives me the leeway to be nice to myself. Which at home is often not the case. In layman’s terms, I am kinder to myself when travelling. My mental health is of a gold standard. I guess in this case, when I travel now, I am running towards something. The version of myself I like.

So, there we have it an assorted and topsy turvy answer without any straightforward conclusion. Other than this. 

For whatever reason we travel, we need to have respect for the opportunities and the freedom we have to do so. It is not a given and most certainly is not an entitlement. It is an absolute privilege. 

Final frolics in Florence

The new healthy

‘More interested in how my life feels than how my life looks to others.’

As this little challenge progresses I have felt the ease of my writing return. I will sit and the words will flow. I can talk both nonsensically and seriously and I hope at times I really make sense. I know at other times I let the words flow over the laptop keyboard, like ink spilling from an inkwell over stark white paper, so freely that it’s only when I pause that I realise I’m 300 words in and have no idea what was said. As a reader I can imagine you may have to reread the jargon in front of you on more than one occasion.

At other times, I force myself to write something, anything, to complete this challenge. To write every single day for 365 days. That challenge has been marred by the website I use when it didn’t publish properly one day and it felt like a failure on my part. So I gave myself a telling off and pledged to continue on and ignore a failing that wasn’t mine.

The easiest piece of writing I find is to do with travel. Whether it is a day out, a weekend away or a mammoth trip somewhere new it’s just easy. Sadly, I cannot travel all day everyday. This is a bad thing. It means when I do I make the most of everything and take nothing for granted. It gives me an opportunity to write something I am passionate about rather than the mess in my head that makes little to no sense to other people.

We are lucky to travel as much as we do. Owning a home and experiencing lockdown restrictions during a worldwide pandemic saw our relationship with travel change vastly. In a way it has made me so much more aware of how lucky I have been in the past and how lucky I am now.

The last week or so has seen me take you to Majorca through my memories, talk about mental health and share older blogs. I don’t feel like it has been my best contribution but I have felt happy enough that I haven’t broken the consecutive run of the blogs written so far. I have spoken before about how I get writer’s block and I feel this week has been particularly challenging with a combination of this and mental health.

In the past I have read endless articles online and heard several stories from friends and family where the word ‘boundaries’ has been used. I’ve always come away from such encounters wondering if having a boundary in place means you shut people out. If the people you construct those boundaries against are bad people. Or if you, the boundary maker, are a bad person by giving up on others. I could never truly understand what it meant and why people reached the point to set their own limitations.

I have spoken before about how in its way covid granted us the time to reset our social lives and redefined what being ‘busy’ meant. Mr W and I regularly block out days on a weekend now to stay at home and actually exist in the home we work hard to pay for and create. Covid gave us the opportunity to see just how busy our lives used to be. Entertaining on a Friday night, running endless errands on a Saturday morning, rushing home to get ready to go back out for a family event, up early on a Sunday morning to go shopping or head somewhere to explore before heading to a friends for a social get together. It was often the case that we were out three or four times during the week too. It often felt like our home was a shell that we sometimes saw the inside of. There wasn’t much complaining because none of the social engagements we had were chores or forced upon us. Between the two of us we have a large blend of family and friends. I have kept a lot of friendships from my school days and they are some of the dearest, most cherished relationships I have in my life. They are important enough to nurture and I would never give them up. By giving ourselves time to stop recently and relax at home we are better people when we do visit our loved ones.

I feel this strongly at times when I become a shell of a person in other ways. I have been realising for a very long time that I am a people pleaser. I will step in to help anyone at the detriment to my own ability or energy. I’m also married to another people pleaser. Now, this can be misconstrued as only helping people to fulfil some need to be a people pleaser. This is not true. We would only ever help when there is love there. When the relationship is genuine and you want to help. Plainly put, you want to help because it’s nice to do so. There is no wrong in this situation.

However, it becomes hard when you are tired. When life is getting too busy, too much, too stressful, too tiring. TO THE LIMIT. And you don’t realise. Your cup runneth dry and you are scraping the paint off of the china. No energy but still pushing on. It ends up feeling like a chore. The once happy days out are filled with yawning, attitude and with the mental capacity of a flea. Going through the motions would be an accurate description.

I think I have started to understand the need for boundaries. As long as I live I will want to help my loved ones. In any way I am physically able to. But I want to be fully able. I want to be in a place where I can help in the best way I can. I’m no good to anyone running on empty. Something has to give.

It is hard to say no. It is never meant in a bad way. It’s never intended with malice. When we are asked to help with something or to go to a get together my/our immediate response is, ‘yeah great.’ But we now take the time to check our calendar and figure out how it works for the rest of the week. Most of the time it works. Occasionally it doesn’t. Do I feel guilty? Absolutely. Is it necessary? Again, absolutely. It is the new healthy. And ultimately people that care about you will absolutely understand the need to make that decision.

In a morbid moment of tiredness I started wondering whether my saying yes all the time, in relation to helping people, had almost become expected behaviour. And by always saying yes, I had given up my right to say no. That the guilt of saying no far outweighed the feelings of tiredness I would feel when pushing myself to the limit. It is the fear of letting people down that controls the ‘yes’ response. Your life should not be about how guilty you feel being the deciding factor. It should be about wanting to help because you are a good, nice, kind person. And it’s rooted in a loving and reciprocal relationship. I will never be that person that sits and expects a give and take in order to help others. When you have the ability to help others it is regardless of anything other than love that is part of the decision making progress. If it’s about gaining something back you don’t fit into the good, nice, kind tick box. HOWEVER, and this is one huge ‘however’, there will come a time, when you keep helping someone and you feel used. When the roots of the loving relationship are only nurtured from your side. You nurture while they take. You help while they take. It is a drain on your mental health and when your mental health takes a hit it will inevitably cause you physical problems and it has to stop. The guilt is a short term problem. Your health in both senses is much more long term.

People pleasing is a great feeling. It is how we show love, concern and compassion. When we find ourselves going out of our way to extend those parts of ourselves it is so natural that when it is seen as something ‘other’ it is really quite harmful. Going out of our way to help without being asked was always something I saw as a plus. To help someone without them asking was just another way to make someone smile. To predict a need before being asked, I thought, was a way of truly knowing someone. Some people may see it as interfering and recently I’ve had to defend my actions. In a big way. It cost me a day of my life due to worry and anxiety. It made me question how I could be misunderstood in such a negative way and what I’d done wrong. It’s the worst feeling to think someone looks at you in such a bad light. I lost my voice.

The situations made me look at boundaries completely differently. That boundaries don’t mean you stop seeing someone out of anger or you change who you are and not help in the future. It made me see that boundaries on how people talk to you and react to you are within your control. That standing up for yourself and challenging someone’s treatment of you is itself a boundary. It questions someone’s respect for you. It gives you the answer of what you mean to them. If they think it’s okay to treat you badly without hesitation there is a reason for a boundary. Talk about why they are talking to you in that way and come to some kind of understanding about what has actually happened, rather than what has been perceived. To have a discussion about it may not be possible, there are some people who have their own mental health issues that stop them seeing past their anger or own views. And that is where another boundary would come in.

I used to think boundaries were there to stop people getting close. To keep people away. A real physical boundary. No invites to dinner. No days out. Making your excuses as to why you didn’t get to talk at a family party. But these days, with mobile phones and instant messaging on all kinds of platforms, the barriers of the physical world will always be beaten by the technological world. How do you politely ignore messages and phone calls and social media conversations? It makes sense now that the boundary is within ourselves. It gives ourselves a guilt free existence and the power to say no. To talk up despite our fears and question those around us about why they treat us how they do. To not place our sense of self worth in the way others behave towards us. It is a barrier in which we can peek over or close entirely. It is ours to control. It is unlike the walls you build up after a break up. One you hide behind. It is a barrier that you control and negotiate from. It is a safety barrier for our mental health.

My barriers are small, but growing. My newest one is a barrier from myself. My challenge to write every day, however great a feeling, will be met with the struggles of writer’s block and tiredness. It is a question of limits, not of laziness, that may stop me on the very odd occasion and that is okay.

I release myself from the guilt of not writing. I release myself from the guilt of saying no. I release myself from being a people pleaser.

I am allowing myself the time to be at home. To look after my health from time to time. To nurture myself so I can be the best person for those I love in my life. I am more interested in feeling good with my own mental health than being a person who always says yes. Saying yes all the time looks good on paper, being known for saying yes has its merits, but behind the scenes it can have its after effects, and those don’t make for happy feelings. So despite life looking good from the outside, it’s gone to pot on the inside. The smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes and the fear of letting people down aren’t indicative of inner happiness.

Boundaries are the new healthy.

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

Lucky

I’m finding myself lost for words.

Today 23 members of my family got together under a cloudless sky, huddled under a gazebo to enjoy food and drink together.

The BBQ was roaring, the music blaring and the laughter was carried through the space on the subtle breeze.

My two beautiful nieces ran around entertaining everyone whilst life stories were caught up on.

The sun beat down mercilessly and yet for the first time in weeks it wasn’t a bother. I sat and watched my family together and felt happy.

Solely happy to be a part of something so big and wonderful.

The family will be growing soon. It’s funny when you are young, you think you have a big family. I have 5 cousins which is relatively small. But when you, your two brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents are all in one room the space makes the family seem enormous. As time wears on, partners enter the mix and the numbers almost double. And then came the children. Now there are three babies to be born into our large family in the next couple of months. The brood is now getting very large.

New stories. New lives. New everything.

As we were driving home. I looked up and saw the big, beautiful moon and started thinking about all the people who too would be looking up at its beauty. I wondered if they had big families. Whether they saw them often. How different peoples’ lives can be for the better or for the worse when it comes to the families they belong to.

As we drove towards that moon I started thanking the big wide universe for the privilege of being in a family like mine. Not everyone has it. Not everyone acknowledges it. Not everyone takes the time to sit and drink it all in.

Whether it’s by choice or circumstance not everyone does or can. I’m just lucky.

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


Tick tock

Cushioning the weakness within on those lonely nights she embraces her pillow. Smuggles it under the blankets to feel warmth. Hugs it close creating the illusion of love once held in the same measures. There’s no room for pain. Or tears. The bulk of him still weighs her down. Collapses her breath. Dulls her pulse. Heightens her senses. Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock. Damn clock. The quilt is heavy. Shrouds her in darkness; covers the lie she creates every night. He’s not there. Not really. Subconsciously she knows he never was there. Not really. Now asleep; the dreams she had in waking hours can come alive. She embraces the ‘him’ she had hoped he would be. The pillow falls to the ground cold and unwanted. Awake in the morning. Without him. No shroud; she too is cold and unwanted. 

She embraces nothing.