Tag: 2020

Positivi-tea

One cup of positivity

½ cup of reality

3 spoons of sugar

One cup of gratitude

And a pinch of looking around and taking it all in

A cup of positivi-tea. Boil yourself a brew. 

You may have read my piece ‘Mental health: triggers’ (linked below). If you did, you’ll now know about the impact negativity has on my mental health. The problems of being a people pleaser and an emotional cheerleader is draining. In my own being I am inherently a negative person. I look at myself with less than loving eyes and foresee potential problems to safeguard myself against future worries. Silly when tomorrow’s worries become today’s sleepless nights. Ironically I don’t want others to feel bad in their lives and try to be a positive influence on them. I am the epitome of not living by my own advice. Silly girl.

I have started to view the world in a rather ‘off’ way recently as I recognise my own mental health triggers. I have seen maybe what I have not seen before and wondered if my eyes have deceived me. Has my new awakening conjured up the negative people or have they been there all along?

It wasn’t until I was watching the news reports on the passing of our Queen that a particular phrase struck me. The man being interviewed had been asked how he thought the world would react to Her Majesty’s passing. He said the obvious things about sadness and grief and yet went on to say how the world of late had become very angry. Though this is a natural reaction when grieving, he said it in a way that it would be outside of the grief, and just how people are used to reacting today. It got me thinking about how true he was. I started to wonder why the world is so angry. 

Is anger the go to emotion?

Covid. Lockdowns. Money. Bills. Elections. Politicians. 

The unrest of the last 30 months has been so unprecedented that the human race has become the tennis ball being hit backwards and forwards at such a rate that we are all worn and befuddled. I understand the reaction. I even understand the anger. We are the proverbial two year old who is tired and yet doesn’t want to sleep. We want ice cream, a pony ride, a big fluffy blanket, pasta, our favourite movies, a day at the beach and hugs all at once. Now! We need constant reassurance. We are catching up with the events of 2020 while navigating 2022 and wondering where on earth the year 2021 went. We are battling through a kind of PTSD while engaging with more battles foreseen and wondering when the peace will return. I understand entirely. 

What is happening is unbelievable. Incredibly implausible. Far-fetched. Unthinkable. Impossible and preposterous. What has happened is the same. What will happen is enough to make us sink to our knees and beg the world to stop spinning. 

And yet it won’t.

The only thing you can control is how you react. Everything that has happened was hard and everything that will come to pass is hard. At each step we are tested. There has been no rest. Just a hard slog through. And yet you are still here. You are choosing to continue. To not give up. Just waking up in the morning, making a cup of your favourite hot drink and walking out that front door proves you have not given up. I promise you that your reaction is your armour against whatever this life throws at you. If you need to scream. Do it. If you need to shout. Go for it. Stomp that foot. Throw those arms in the air. Bow that head with frustration. But do not give up. 

Anger is the one emotion that controls you. So let it in. Let it do its thing. And then throw it into the wind. Let the wind carry it far away. You are not anger. You are who you choose to be. Don’t let anger rule your heart. It will win. You will lose yourself. You will sink to your knees and not regain your composure. 

How you react to whatever life throws at you is the person you will be moving forward. I feel your pain. We all do. Life is damn hard. Don’t let it change who you are. You deserve so much more. 

One cup of positivity

½ cup of reality – it sucks, but it is all we have.

3 spoons of sugar – there is sweetness locked into the smallest moments, if you only take the time to seek them out. 

One cup of gratitude – put your hand on your chest. Inside is a heart that beats to keep you breathing, walking and talking. Feel the breath in your lungs. The pulse in your wrists. You are alive. 

And a pinch of looking around and taking it all in – go on, do it. 

Drink it all up. Let it warm you and comfort you. You are not alone. 

Mental health: triggers

A piece of Pisa

There are 37 people on this aircraft. It’s September 2020. 

Restrictions have lifted enough in the Uk for us to travel to countries on the green list. Every Thursday brings amendments to the list and so far Italy is go go go!

We land at Pisa airport and it is empty. It is 5pm local time and all services are closed. This is strange. Following the signs, we head to the Pisa mover that’ll take us into the heart of the city. Masks are on, backpacks strapped up and feet are eager. This is the kind of transport I like. Just EUR2.70 each and 5 minutes to the destination! Next stop: Pisa Centrale.

It is a 25 minute march to our only stop in the city. The daylight is fading and we must get back for our train to Florence. We cross the Arno river, so still in the evening sun and I have to pinch myself to believe that our postponed Italy trip has finally begun. We weave our way through old apartment buildings, where the restaurants underneath are just starting their terrace table service and the sounds of humanity grow louder.

And then, there she is. The leaning tower of Pisa. We emerge onto Piazza del Duomo and the setting sun streams its light upon this architectural wonder. It is illuminating. The whole scene is. There are more people here than in both the airports we have passed through today and they are smiling. Covid feels like a bad dream that we have now woken from. There are families taking selfies, couples arm in arm strolling and the army around the base of the tower. All life is here. 

The sky is various shades and shapes of mottled grey. But underneath the Cathedral and Tower of Pisa glow in the most magnificent light. It is the most spectacular welcome to any vacation we’ve had. We enter the Piazza and head left towards the Porta Nuova. The sun continues its journey towards the horizon and the intensity makes the scene dance before us. We stop every couple of metres to pick out the extraordinary details of the tower. It is a picture that will never need a filter. A memory that will never be replaced. A piece of life slotted into the dread of 2020.

The grass of the Piazza is the greenest grass we’ve seen. The light is the brightest. The smiles are wider. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve experienced something like a pandemic.  The good times are magnified. They boom out of the silence.

We follow the square around to the Battistero di San Giovanni. A huge circular building that is currently playing peekaboo with the sun. The detail on the facade is breathtaking and reminds me why Italy is one of the top destinations in the world. Italy’s unassuming nature to have these structures sitting just a stone’s throw away from regular life. Restaurants, stations and homes. It’s like this place just sprung up one day. And life just carried on without fuss or bother. 

The shadows grow long on the grass as we walk alongside the Cathedral, which in its own right dominates the space. With the light fading the marble turns from orange to a light grey. It is disappearing into the night’s sky. 

Up ahead the tower is alive burning orange in the sunset and the details are darkening by the second. It is transforming before us. I am so glad we came.

The initial plan was to use Pisa for its airport and head straight to Florence. Tourist traps are not my guide when planning city breaks. They’re all good and well dotted here and there in a day’s plan, but I find myself more and more drawn to the life of cities than the lines of citizens of the world, elbowing each other for photos and the best vantage point. But the fact of the matter this time was the proximity to something that I couldn’t pass by. An hour’s grace and detour meant it was done and dusted. Been there, done that. And yet it became so much more than that. It was the gateway of the whole trip. It started as it would then go on. Fulfilling every promise. Healing the fears of 2020 and soothing the worries for the future. Pisa encapsulated the feeling that life would move on. That people could come together again, smiling, laughing and enjoying the simplicity of existing.

Stories of Venice part three

We are at the Hotel H10 Palazzo Canova. I’ve found it to be one of the only rooftop bars with a view in Venice. It’s not stipulated online whether it’s for hotel guests only and my attitude after being ‘caged’ for 6 months pushes me to try my luck. I’m dressed casually and this place is beautiful. We walk straight in ‘like we own the joint’ and head around to the bank of lifts. Hit the ‘bar’ button and walk out onto a stone terrace with the most phenomenal backdrop. 

The terrace overlooks the Grand Canal. Leaning slightly over the balustrade gives you a wonderful view of the Rialto Bridge, it isn’t the whole picture but it’s enough to make me want to squeak excitedly. The staff are so friendly and accommodating, they show us the QR codes on the table. When scanning them with our phones, we are able to bring up the menus with an English option. We order coffees and sit in the afternoon sun. This is the first time we have stopped and watched Venice’s world go by. I am transfixed on the water and all the boats moving about. The whole scene is intoxicating. Gondolas, vaporetto, people, smiles. It’s as if Covid doesn’t exist. It is by sitting for a while we realise how tired we are and adjust our plans for the day. This is very strange for me. I’ll usually walk til I drop. But I’m either out of practice or Venice demands your full attention, you need to sit and stay. NO! Seriously, stop. Enjoy. Drink it in. And that’s what we did. We sat laughing, talking and enjoying it all. Whatever plans were left for today could be done tomorrow, or when we return, I don’t think I had noticed at the time, but I had fallen head over heels for Venice and deep down was already planning the next trip. So if we didn’t finish the plans that day, we’d do it another time! I’m too busy watching the rows upon rows of gondolas rolling on the canal below. There is something so beautiful about their shiny finish and red interiors. 

Mr W made it quite clear when we arrived he had no interest in going in a gondola, we’re both really uncomfortable with being ‘served’. So being in a boat, with the gondolier transporting us about, is something unimaginable. But who said because I don’t want to ride in one I can’t watch those people! You can literally see their faces transform as they mentally tick that box on their bucket list. They are here. They’ve done it. A lifelong dream, a spur of the moment bit of fun or claiming back a missed opportunity due to covid.

I find for the third time, I do not want to leave, but we have dinner plans, and they’re quite special. In the last few years, Mr W and I have enjoyed a cheesy little tradition when we travel. I’ve always laughed when you see a Mcdonalds bursting at the seams when abroad. Don’t the customers know there is a Mcdonalds on every street corner. But as I’ve grown, I’ve started to acknowledge the ease of a fast food joint, the cheaper option, not having to worry about the language barrier and simply enjoying what you enjoy. So, with that in mind, wherever we go, we’ll check if they have a Hard Rock Cafe. We both love the music, the cocktails and we always buy Mr W a t-shirt. It also helps that this is the year we celebrate our 2nd wedding anniversary, which happens to be cotton, so the gift shop is calling out to me! It’s also a surprise for Mr W, we are afterall celebrating his birthday by being here.

We enjoy our food, dance along to the music and head back into the throngs of Venice. We idle away the time wandering the canals until nightfall and we find ourselves in St Mark’s Square. It is unbelievably quiet. There are pianos being played for the patrons of the night-time dwellers. There are less than 20 people in the entire space. It feels so personal. We stop to enjoy the music. For the second time today we stop to drink it all in. It’s our last night and rather than be sad, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude to be here. The world is phasing in and out of restrictions every week. In May 2020, it was possible to travel to Greece and Spain from the UK and not have to worry about isolating on your return. Every Thursday the red, amber and green travel list was updated, and every week it brought new countries into the green and pushed others into the red. The situation was always changing and taking the risk to book our trip to Italy for September was a tough decision. We made the leap because financially the risk was very small. The emotional risk of losing the trip again was a bigger one to us. So just getting out of the country was a big enough deal, without finding this place half empty and yet so full of life. While that piano played, it felt all so surreal, to be in the midst of a pandemic and feel happy. Not happy about the pandemic, but in spite of it. We still clung to parts of ourselves we thought all too lost. 

The next morning brings new adventures and the return of the fog. Except the fog is thicker and there is rain in the air. Today we fly home, which means our backpacks return to our shoulders and we have to face the elements. We have breakfast, take one final nap and head into the winding walkways. The venetian waters are lapping over the edges of the Riva degli Schiavoni and parts of St Mark’s Square have giant puddles. The water reflects St Mark’s Basilica, a beautiful time to reflect on the last six days.  Large raised walkways have been erected, it seems that Venice is preparing for a high tide. There is a light rain and we decide to take it easier today. Mr W takes out his trusty google map app, a godsend through our whole visit, and we head towards the Ponte dell’ Accademia. 

The fog lifts and the light of the grey sky reflects differently on the wet cobbles. The walk is slower paced and it becomes sadder the closer we get to going home. The rain sets the emotion of the day perfectly. We come to the dark wooden bridge that spans the Grand Canal, and we say another goodbye to a true icon of Venice. From here it is a 10 minute walk to Fondamente Salute, the alleys here wind more than ever, the bridges and canals are very small, it feels like a hidden part of town. Art Galleries line the streets with gated courtyards to tempt the eyes. We reach Fondamente Salute and look out across the Bacino San Marco. The water is rough and laps up to where we stand, we stay for a while looking out and over the Campanile di San Marco. Turning away from one of the most iconic landmarks in the whole of Venice feels like the trip is already over.

We walk away, the rain has stopped but the water is starting to flood the streets. We take a brief moment to stop in front of the Basilica di Santa Maria della Salute. The building is on a platform of stone, with stairs leading up to its vast front doors. It is hauntingly beautiful, in the grey of the day it merges into the sky and then back into the water. It feels as if the stairs lead you into the water. I know now that my love affair with this place is far from over. 

We cross a small bridge in the Dorsoduro and have to wade through an ankle deep puddle. A man stands on the other side, trying to sell us plastic booties that will keep our feet dry, he looks at us with his eyebrows raised when we walk straight through. We pause in a tiny Trattoria Pizzeria for Cicchetti and talk to the owner about the weather. Of all things. It seems apt to discuss rain in Venice. In broken English he tries his best to tell us about the floods that devastated the community in 2019. He shows us on his polished bar where the water came up to. I look at the table in front of me, in those depths it would be completely submerged. We continued to listen as he explained he’d replaced all his kitchen equipment just before covid snatched away his livelihood. And yet despite the last 10 months, he is here talking to us, smiling and sharing his story. 

I thought alot about that man on the coach to the airport. His story, his enthusiasm, his strength. It brought the whole trip full circle. The feeling of being uncaged, the beauty of an awakening country and the strength we were all regaining. It made me realise that despite the horrors of the pandemic, life would carry on and we could either be submerged by it, losing ourselves in the process, or rise above to fight again. 

Photo by Dave Watson

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

Are we the virus?

“Take only memories, leave only footprints.” – Chief Seattle

It will always be apparent to the travellers of this world, that a photo can only tell you so much about a place. You see idyllic beaches in the Caribbean, pure white sand and crystal clear waters. It may shock you when you visit that the odd plastic bottle or crisp packet ruins your expectation. In many places, there are staff that go to the beaches at ungodly hours and rake up the debris from the surfs kiss upon the shore. We see all too often the capabilities of people on this planet. 

During lockdown in England, there were unprecedented numbers of visitors to beaches and parks. Not having to be at work and the fantastic sunshine that shone during the months of May and June in 2020, saw the restrictions of meeting outside well and truly met. The carnage left behind was devastating. Tonnes of litter left behind like never before. It was like the earth had had its breather while we were locked away in doors and this was our chance to do double the damage. 

There have been several news items in recent years about how overrun tourists spots have been in the UK since 2020. When lifting restrictions meant we could exercise outside for an hour daily, Snowden was overrun despite many people living more than an hour away. It was a clear example of give and inch and take a mile. 

Even now, in 2022, there are articles about the UK experiencing its highest level of domestic tourism for decades. We are two people who never really travelled the UK, before covid, I will put my hands up to that. If it weren’t for all the confusion about what country needs what test and form wise, I’m sure we would have planned a trip abroad. There is also the highly stressful experience of having to cancel and rebook a trip in 2020. (See my ‘Reclaming a sunset’ blog.) I’m grateful in a way to how much our travel perspective has changed. We always used to lean towards city breaks, with the vast cacophony of noises, people and culture, we thought we were getting all that place had to give. It wasn’t until we took a trip to Edinburgh and Northumberland in late 2021 that our vision was altered. We spent two days wandering to waterfalls and hiking the hills and we found rewards like we hadn’t before. The peace of it all, the personal pride of achieving new feats of exertion and the slower pace that we needed to heal.

Being in Northumberland felt like we were the first to discover new areas, the forests were empty and the hills were silent. None of this overrun business. And yet there was a time that all had to change. As I said, our tastes have changed, and I’m not saying we’d never been to the countryside, but given the choice we’d choose a day in London over hiking. Now it’s more, let’s get into the city at 5am, see it at its emptiest and leave by noon. Venice taught us that a city is at its most beautiful without its crowds. We’d done it before in London, purely from a photography point of view, but there is something in being the only one wandering the Thames at sunrise. 

This past weekend we went to a local forest to see the blooming bluebells. Despite their annual appearance this was my first time seeing their exuberance in such an enormous way. Walking amongst them felt like being in a dreamscape. The colours, the life and the sheer volume of nature’s power screamed out in the silence of the forest. I noticed that several paths had been trodden through the bluebells, their stamped on stems laying squashed underfoot, it was a big shame. When we returned to the car parks, I noticed a lot of signs asking people to keep to the pathways to avoid ruining the plants. It made me sad. 

Returning to Northumberland this year is a big deal for us, we just don’t do it. How can you see the world if you return to the same place twice? We have a select few places we’ll return to out of comfort and it seems Northumberland is one of those for the time being. It is one of those places that when you find one of its hidden secrets, it whispers to you another one. 

On the coast, and our first taste of Northumberland, stands Bamburgh Castle. Surprisingly, in early August it was unexpectedly quiet. We parked without problem, and walked the beach without disturbing towels or sandcastles. It’s been said this week that Bamburgh is 2022’s most visited UK town. We’re trendsetters don’t-cha-know! 

With its absolutely enormous beach and stunning castle backdrop it comes as no surprise. 

However, locals have found the sudden infamy problematic. Vehicles parked up on grass verges due to car parks hitting their capacity, litter and disruption not far behind. It’s certainly a turn of events, but not one that can cause shock. It’s saddening for sure. But shocking? No. I’m sure there are people that profit from such large numbers of tourists, it isn’t all bad, it never is, since when did news articles give both sides of the story. 

It would be wise to remember the world continued turning, the oceans continued crashing to the clean shores and the bluebells thrived during lockdown. We are the virus the world does not need, these beautiful places are a gift and should be treated as such. If we wish to arrive in paradise we need to do our bit. Pick up our litter. Stick to the path. Take only memories. And if you should leave footprints, be respectful of what’s underfoot. Paradise takes a lifetime to build and only moments to disappear. 

Well, wasn’t that a cheerful post, come back next time for something lighter! 

Lockdown in retrospect

Lockdown. Lockdown. Lockdown.

What does that even mean anymore? 

Does it mean we get angry at the neighbours who bypass the guidelines to suit themselves?

Does it mean we have fears that life will never return to what was once ‘normal’? 

Normal for me is travelling. Normal for me is freedom. Plan a trip. Buy an airline ticket. Pack a backpack and go. If I’ve learnt anything the past 10 weeks it’s that there is no normal anymore. They are the words from everyone’s lips. Online. On the phone. From a conversation at a socially accepted distance.

Social distance. Lockdown. Corona Virus. Words you never thought could cause so much pain and upset in this lifetime. Unprecedented is another one. Something so large in scale it stopped the world in its tracks. Like never experienced before. I’m sure the Spanish Flu had the same amount of impact on the human race in terms of fear and confusion. However it is down to the technology capabilities we have today that news is manipulated on a greater scale and reaches around the world quicker than anything else on this planet. So what do we do?

One of the first things I’ve done is to stop reading the news. In the initial weeks I felt panicked at the very thought of leaving my house, my hands were cracked red raw and there was no other topic to talk about. It took over life as we knew it. I’m pretty certain that that happened to 99.99% of the world population. 

Truth be told, I’ve, until now, lived a blessed life of travelling the world when I want to and where I want to. When that’s been taken away from you, it starts to creep up on you that what once was viewed as such an easy vocation, is actually more of entitlement which isn’t granted to everyone in the world. Others panicked about their livelihoods, their homes, their friends and family. For one brief moment, I worried about when we would next leave our doorstep. It all seems so stupid now. Especially in retrospect. As the Uk lockdown slowly begins its ‘easing’, the new panic of an imminent second wave  plays on your mind. So you find yourself stuck in your adapted ‘normal’ and being rigid. It’s the fear isn’t it? It’s not letting you go. It’s self preservation. When this first started I was sad to be kept inside, away from everything I knew, now that’s all I want. Home. Home. Home. Safe. Safe. Safe!

Mr W and I sat in our garden the other day, a cool 2 metres away from my dad, visiting for the first time in over 2 months, and we got to talking about travel. Inevitably, that will be the cornerstone of conversation with me and whoever will listen. And I got to thinking about my time in Australia.

I landed into Melbourne, Australia on 2nd February 2013. Tired beyond belief and yet still raring to go! Two days later, with 7 stops on our tour around the Melbourne coast, we were to witness the first of our Australian delights. Koalas! Up close and personal with a 9 year old, male, who was huge and very focused on his lunch. Hand feeding Wallabies under sparse bushes, dodging the midday sun. Scouring the scorched landscape and glimpsing a rather chilled out Kangaroo. That afternoon, jet lagged and a little awestruck, to beat the fatigue, we dodged the odd tourist taking a pleasant walk down Woolamai Beach and jumped into the roaring waves. The sun beat down pursuing my exceptionally white English skin and if I paused to notice I’m unaware of it now. It slowly dawned on me what we had got ourselves into, this was going to be the most tiring and life changing trip of my life. Soaked with salt water and smelling of sweat and sun cream, I jumped into the surf once more. Sweat, nice, I know. 

Later that day, when the Aussie sun took its leave and the sky turned inky indigo, we watched tiny penguins emerge from the sea and race up the beach to their nests. Above us the jewels of the Southern hemisphere sparkled and trailed across the sky and in front of us the waters kept pushing forward these funky little creatures. And I couldn’t stop smiling. I felt free.

If you had told me that I’d come home, get engaged to the love of my life, move into our own home and get married, I’d have said you had experienced the effects of seawater on an empty stomach. But I did and it’s been its own little whirlwind. A different kind of freedom. A safe freedom where someone has my back forever. Who picks me up when I cry over crap people, who pulls me out of the surf when the water gets too strong and who also knows when to push me back in to deal with it myself. 

So moving forward, I’m going to surround myself with my memories, my new found sense of gratitude for the once viewed ‘small’ things and go with the flow. 

Nothing is forever. 


Take this day by day. And know that you are not alone. Each night is a chapter closing. Each morning is a chance to refresh. You’ve got this. And be kind to yourself. We are each droplets of water in one very vast ocean. Ride the wave, jump into the surf and know when to ask for help.