Tag: COVID

Happy 2023

Hello 2023. I won’t pretend I’m shocked at how long it’s been since I’ve written. There’s been a lot going on, there always is and somehow writing has taken the biggest back step to everything else. It’s a shame because of how much I love it, how much there is to tell you and just how much it helps. However, forcing it also isn’t great. 

So where do I begin. We’ve had SO many days out in London which have been amazing. Unfortunately, the saturation of the word amazing in social media these days is quite something but let’s take it back to basics. ‘Amazing.’ It is when something amazes you and I’m not talking about the perfect frothy detail on your cappuccino, no I’m talking about something that quite literally feels your mind with amazement. Whether it be on the day, that evening, the day after and/or when you look back at pictures taken. We obviously have the great pleasure in doing the latter frequently because we are big photo takers and we had 4, 5, 6 (can’t remember until I recap them) amazing days out which means there are plenty of photos to go through. Two of those days in particular would not have been possible without meeting our new friends from America, which I’ll go into more detail when I recap those days. 

Mr W and I had a lovely Christmas, which after 2 years of covid disruptions (it took me a long time to think of polite word ‘disruption’), was really nice to just again get back to basics.  Lots of family time, good food and just stopping. That actual stopping of work and plans and obligations, as such, and rushing around. It was really important for us to do that and we knew the benefits of stopping because we do it every year. Every Christmas Mr W will have off a big chunk of time and we halt the horses so to speak. However after the last couple of months it’s been just horrifically busy and we have been (I think) closest to burnout that we’ve ever been. It was both nice and necessary to just stop and we really did. There were days where we didn’t get dressed. We didn’t eat anything but Christmas leftovers. It was absolutely great.

Moving forward into this year things are going to look a bit different for us both. We’re already planning some big big renovation works in the house. Which is very exciting. It does mean that our travel budget is cut in half this year. Which seen as we are on year 2 of working on a travel budget it’s quite strange. It is all very new territory for us. I must say that Mr W and I do shine best when we have a project as a couple and I am so excited for our ideas to come together. Of course, it will be lovely to have our very own bathrooms rather than a shower that doesn’t work and a bathtub we have to vault to get clean. Back to travel; we’re maybe going to have a weekend away before starting the renovations and then a big travel trip at the end of the year. We’re going to do a lot more days than in 2022. I’ve actually taking it on myself to write a list of all the day trips we planned last year and never got to. This is done to other commitments and the fact there are only 52 weekends in a year. I mean, hardly fair is it!

Last March, we planned to do Dancing Ledge on the Jurassic Coast when we spent time in the New forest but we simply ran out of time. So 2023 will be the year we catch up doing things like that. It would be great to do these big days out and freshen our weekends up with adventures. We’ve got the wet suits, so who knows what we’ll get up to! There is a lot more we both want to see in London but we also just want to enjoy the silly things. This Saturday, rather than you know have a coffee in bed (something we love and certainly plan on doing a whole lot more of this year, adding our books into the mix) or drive to town and having a coffee, we’re going to drive into London for free parking and have one in St Katherine’s Dock. It is honestly just such a lovely place. Even though you’re in the middle of the city, you find this micro community hidden behind the tall buildings of Tower Hill. It feels like nobody really knows about it or if they do it’s like it’s our little secret. It’s like our own little club of people that’s waiting for the waking up of the city that surrounds it. And that is a simple moment between us, coffee and the city noises. 

The big trip this year is looking like it’s going to be in September. Shocker right? I don’t want to tell you too much right now because although it’s not heavily reliant on budget it is slow in its emergence from ideas and trying to push ourselves to go new places and do brand new things. There seems to be a form of doing less in the way of tours and entrances and yet more in experiences that mean more to us. There will be some moving from country to country via train. To gain the most from this means a lot of research, as you can imagine we don’t just want to move from country to country and not be on the best route to see what the new country is all about! 

When we went to Brussels in November (blog coming soon) we were there for roughly 30 hours.It was just so thrilling to be in a brand new country (for us, tick!). We didn’t feel rushed even though it was a very short amount of time. Those kinds of experiences wake you up a bit and it felt revitalising to have left the UK for the first time since late 2020. 

We have had such a busy but beautiful and blessed life since our return from Scotland that there has been a vast array of things to write about. However, lately it’s been problematic to find the time to write. There is a lot going on and in all honestly when Mr W gets home I just want our time to be together. I don’t want to be typing or editing. I came to the conclusion on our return from Scotland that we really only have a very small window each weekday to be together. 3 or 4 hours away from the office in which we can live our married life and just enjoy ‘us’ without the interruption of other hobbies and choices. It won’t always be so easy. We aren’t simply a family of ‘two’, we have a large family that is important and it is my goal this year to see as many of them as possible and more often. It’s never a duty or a chore, it’s just a case of prioritising. So if I can write during the day. Perfect. 

Speaking of nightly activities, when Mr W gets home we inherently have dinner and watch TV. Which is fine. When you consider that the nights have been darker, it’s been colder, the snow, oh god the snow (!) laziness is put into perspective weather-wise. But since New Year’s Eve (and this was very subconscious on both our parts) we kind of realised that we didn’t want to sit on the sofa every night, just watching something for sake watching it. This was called into conversation when Mr W asked me out on a date night last week! How cute. We went out to dinner, which we never really do, we’re always so budget conscious that we don’t go out. Most of the time, we cook, it’s rare that we get takeout, if we’re gonna have pizza we’ll dig one out of the freezer. Which is obviously everybody’s nightmare. You always want takeout pizza, they just taste better and that’s a fact. I digress! We went out for dinner. It was lovely. Really lovely. And last night,  we went to the cinema. The fact that it cost a tenner is just awesome and I am pushing myself to think that £10 here and there will not blow our chances of travelling this year out of the water. Or… other obviously important things like paying bills and house renovations. Of course. Last night we had a very very cheap Costco dinner sitting at the plastic table and chairs, you know the ones, inside the store. And for a supremely awesome dessert, I smuggled in my pocket some leftover Christmas chocolates. It really was a really cheap night out. Something  like £17/18. We’re planning on doing a lot more of these kinds of nights out and chop and change it up a bit.

2023. It’s here. It’s almost unexpected to be here. Not living, but that 2023 is here already, where did 2020/21/22 go? It is is time to get back into the writing and there are a few other projects I’m working on at the moment. All time consuming but worthwhile. Just need to find my rhythm again. I’ve been dictating this particular piece if you have noticed how much my writing changes when I do so. It just gives me a chance to get back into the swing of it before starting with a big piece with just typing. There’s so much to write about as well. I’ll need to write a little list of what I can share with you all. I’ll be heading back to the Scotland pieces soon, as I’m a hater of unfinished business and the itineraries could really help you, someone, plan that NC500 trip you’ve been longing to go on. 

I really love the fact that I’m still getting followers despite my absence, hello to all of you, it may mean that this blog resonates with people which is really special actually. I didn’t think it would to be honest and in the beginning it was just some way of me talking through things. If you like what you’re reading and feel like sharing it please do send the link on to people you think may like it too. Thank you for sticking around if you’ve been here since the beginning and thank you to everyone who has ‘liked’ and shared the odd writing over the last couple of weeks. Until next time, be kind to yourself. I think that’s the most important thing we can learn from the past couple of years. Do what makes you happy. I’ll see you soon.

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

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. 

A solo tour through anxiety

There have been many times in the past when Mr W has needed to travel for work. North Wales, Hexham, Latvia, Malaga… and I’ve not been able to attend. In February of this year he mentioned that he may have to go up to Birmingham for a trade show and asked if I would like to join him. 

At first I wondered what I’d do for 3 days alone. Mr W would be gone from 8am till 6pm. After two failed attempts at going to Birmingham in 2020 I started to think this would be another missed opportunity.

Throwing caution to the wind, we booked the train tickets. The plan was simple. Spend 2.5 of the 3 days in bed, watching trash tv and napping. A little pamper here. A little shopping there. In fact the biggest draw was the world’s biggest Primark. I wouldn’t have to worry about dragging Mr W around and could go at my own pace. The spark of excitement was beginning. 

As the date for the trip approached I started looking at Birmingham as a new place to explore and found some areas of interest for my daytime walks. Our hotel was right next to Birmingham New Street station so was in the middle of a hub of restaurants, shops and a stone’s throw away from the old town. What could go wrong?

Anxiety. To be exact, an anxiety attack. So spiteful, it left me crumbled as soon as we reached our hotel. After a rather smooth train journey from Euston I started to feel the creeping fear of being in a new place hitting me. Normally travelling does not affect me and I realised it was down to the fact I would be on my own for the first time in years. I realise now that the anxiety started its creep long before we even jumped on the train. It was when we sat waiting for our train in Euston station that I was very aware of the amount of people in the immediate vicinity. It was the first time in two years I’d been in a place so big, crowded and loud. Thanks covid! Emerging from the train to a new and hectic train station did not help and by the time we reached the hotel room I felt sick. I couldn’t do this. How could I even think of doing this alone?

By the time we sat down for dinner that night Mr W knew something was wrong. And there it all spilled out. The fear. The very real fear I had of being alone in a new place. How different I felt about being in cities after the lockdowns of 20/21 and my fear of being around so many people. I sat in that restaurant going to pieces. It was deserted which is probably why I was able to let all those feelings out at once. We sat and talked for hours about how life had changed so slightly and so massively all at once. I decided to not put any pressure on myself to stick to my 3 day plan and see how I felt in the mornings. 

By giving myself the time to adjust the following morning I was able to think of the day ahead with a clearer head. I had an exceptionally long shower and washed the previous 12 hours of fear down the drain. The fact I slept over 10 hours went a long way to reiterate that my mental health had physically exhausted me. Sipping a cup of tea while slowly getting ready and making a simple plan meant that I felt much less nervous about setting out into the city. The day’s plan was clear. 

Shopping. 

I wandered aimlessly around shops and found that nothing took my fancy. It is always the way, money to burn and yet nothing found to buy. The Primark was enormous and yet I realised early on that being with another person would make the experience that much better. The Disney cafe looked great and yet I wanted someone sitting with me. Otherwise it felt like any other store. After leaving I felt a little boost in going alone. Go me!

Not wanting to push my luck with my anxiety I head back to the hotel. Dinner that night was a much calmer experience and I wondered what the next day would bring.

After another soothing lay-in and pamper, I head in the opposite direction of the shopping centre. Birmingham’s old town was calling. I spent some time in the shadow of St Philips Cathedral before winding my way through the streets. I strolled past the Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery and Town Hall, both so beautiful that my intrigue calmed my nerves. My next destination called to me like a beacon. Birmingham library. Was this nerd going to a library? Yes. Was it to see books? Nope!

Birmingham library has a rooftop garden which is free to enter and it may have been the sole reason I had ventured out that day. There is something about an urban rooftop garden’s juxtaposition that I enjoy very much. The paths on the roof wound around pockets of planting that despite the chilly March weather brought the space to life. Semi-circular benches framed the flower beds and I spent a lingering moment sitting in the sunshine. From here I wandered over to the canal that made its way through Gas Street Basin. 

The calming nature of water washed over me as I walked along the bricked bank of the canal and started to thoroughly enjoy myself. Barges were moored up one by one and the restaurants and pubs that lined the walkways were quietly waiting for their first customers of the day.  I walked around the buildings of Brindleyplace and found corners of greenery in the vast expanses of stone and tarmac. 

Arriving back at the hotel I found I felt more relaxed than I had for days. Estimating the time Mr W would disembark his train, I walked to the train station and looked for him coming through the turnstiles. Unable to see me through the crowds I was able to follow him as he headed to where he thought I would be waiting. I was able to follow him straight into the hotel foyer where he turned wondering who was behind him. It took him at least 3 seconds to recognise me and I laughed freely at the ruse. 

The next day was our last in Birmingham and he had to work. I had over five hours to lose while waiting for our train departure. So for the first time in my life I went to the cinema on my own. I wondered if people would think I was weird. I wondered about a lot of things. In total, there were 5 people in that screening and after the film I realised being alone isn’t something to be scared of. 

I took the train to meet Mr W so we could head home. Meeting him on that platform I felt a wave of calm wash over me and I sat in quiet contemplation for the first hour of our journey home. I started forgiving myself for the times in the last 3 days that I had beaten myself up. 

The last two years have been hard for everyone in multiple ways and when it came to being kind to ourselves I fell short of doing so. 

So what if it took me all morning to leave the hotel to go shopping.

So what if I needed to take refuge from a new city in the shadows.

And so what if I cried at the thought of being alone. 

The pandemic pushed us so far out of our comfort zones that it will take time to repair our mental health. All at once is not going to work. In fact, as I found out on that first evening in Birmingham, jumping in at the deep end was such a shock to the system that I just crashed and shut down. That anxiety attack was the biggest indicator of how the pandemic affected my mental health. 

I’ve learned a lot since then. I’m able to vocalise when my anxiety is starting to take over. And even though I may not know why I feel so bad, I give myself the time to pass through it rather than try and skirt around the issue. Being kind to ourselves doesn’t necessarily mean solving a problem to continue on with our day but giving ourselves the same comfort as others we would stop and help. To listen rather than give answers and advice. To guide through and know there is another side to the story. Though the path may be dark, if we continue to move forward we’ll find the light along the way. 

Steps that count

44,162 steps – Northumberland – 3.5 days

14,878 steps – Greenwich – 1 day

Unknown steps – Tunisia – 1 week

Before the pandemic and certainly before Mr W, holidays were spent either walking around New York, pacing out the heavily padded itinerary or on a sunlounger on the beach. It was either ALL the walking possible or none at all. 

Since Mr W and I have travelled together there have been the odd holidays that we’ve sat down, maybe 2 in 9 years, and I couldn’t say for sure that that is. It seems we have an inability to sit still. 

Our first trip together was in October 2013. Tunisia was not a place that I’d ever thought to travel to but was cheap enough and still warm enough that late in the year that it ticked enough boxes for a short week away. The ticked boxes from the travel agent were proven correct with hot sunny days followed by balmy nights. I was looking forward to sitting by the pool with a plus one for the first time in my life. And I’ll say it, I wanted to show our relationship off to the world. I was happy and wanted to shout it from the rooftops. We spent hours in the pool, swimming, playing and laughing. One lady swam past us sighing, saying ‘It’s so nice to see a couple having fun’. I practically skipped back to the lounger. 

I foresaw the rest of our days in Tunisia playing out similarly. Sun, lounger, pool, book, naps and love. On maybe the 3rd day, we dragged ourselves out of bed quite late and made our way down to the secluded pool where it seemed only adults ventured. Book and bag in hand, I layed down in the dappled shade and set myself up for a day of warm breezes and the latest storyline of my new book. In my peripheral vision, I could see Mr W, he wasn’t lying down or grabbing his book. He was sitting as you would do while you wait for a bus. I asked him what was up. He said ‘Do you want to go and explore the local area?’. With all my being I wanted to scream, NO! I’ve literally just sat down! And yet we did go out, we walked to the local market. The next day we took a train to the next town along. The day after we took a little tourist road train to another town. It wasn’t until we were reaching the end of the week when we finally ventured onto the beach and I again attempted to surf the beach sofa. Soon his static body entered my peripheral vision and his boredom and utter dislike of being there had us moving somewhere else. 

Do I think that’s where the busy holidays started? No. 

Do I think that’s where the lazy holidays ended? Quite possibly. 

We’ve spent time with family in Majorcan villas but did we sit still for longer than half a day? Also no. 

When the pandemic hit and we moved our Italy trip to the autumn from spring, we felt that we were insanely lucky to even travel. The week travelling from Florence to Venice without too much interruption from the covid laws felt like the deepest breath we had taken in 6 months. We wanted to make every step count. Every single minute of those six days felt magical. Every plan fell into place. Every smile fell naturally onto our lips. Regardless of how busy we were, there was no moaning about tired feet, only an appreciation for the freedom to travel. We didn’t want to waste a single second. 

Now, almost two years later, we have spent three long weekends hiking and pushing ourselves past our once thought of limits. The trips have been eye-opening in so many ways and we have such a new passion for countryside vacations and our limits will be pushed furthermore when we go to Scotland and try wild swimming and even longer hikes. 

When I used to pound the sidewalks of New York from 8am to 8pm I wouldn’t stop to think how many miles I had walked. To be fair, I didn’t have the technology to count the mileage/steps. I can only hazard a guess that I walked upwards of 9 miles a day. So why am I now seeing 5 miles a day as such a big deal? Maybe because it’s brought to my attention by watches and apps that notify you before you ask them to. Or because I still find it amusing that some place, like Northumberland, I once saw as inferior to New York, is now on the same level when it comes to awe-inspiring. I never would have guessed that I would choose to walk and hike the UK with as much gusto as I did exploring abroad. Times have certainly changed!

We have been talking recently, Mr W and I, about taking a vacation somewhere warm, with a pool. A villa break for just us. It has come to our attention that we need some time to stop. We need to jump in the pool and only emerge from it because of pruney fingertips. We need to start and finish the book we haven’t got time for at home. The afternoon naps. The late mornings. The step count being in the hundreds rather than the thousands. 

So far, we haven’t had the luck of booking the trip. However, even though we now see the value of exploring and travelling more than ever and our new found appreciation for hiking is pushing us beyond boundaries we didn’t know existed, we have come to a bigger realisation. 

It is to stop. Even though it is often said that every step we take when travelling is precious, I think it may be the steps we don’t take that can be just as important. When we start to travel again in the opening world, we are pushed by the memory of being locked away in our homes to go further than ever before and take on personal challenges that we’ve always avoided. 

By doing this, we are pushing ourselves so hard all the time that we will forget what was good about being locked away in the first place. The simplicities of a good lunch in the sunshine. A night watching the stars with a cup of tea. Drawing a blanket up under your chin for an early night’s sleep. A walk in the country to give your lungs a fresh breath. 

These steps count too. Whether they are counted by your watch or listed on an app. 

These are the non-steps that keep you still long enough to save your tired soles for their next big leap into the unknown. 

Step one. Stay still. 

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

Limits

It is day 876,352 of having Covid. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by Dave Watson

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

Planning the NC500 cont.

Well here we are, I have covid.

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

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

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

I’m counting my lucky stars for sure. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Final frolics in Florence

It is our 3rd wedding anniversary. And Florence is bathing in sunlight and blue skies. The day has started slowly and the smiles on our faces tell us that today, slowly will work best. 

From the Piazza della Repubblica we take the short 3 minute walk to the Piazza del Mercato Nuovo to see the bronze boar of Florence. Il Porcellino stands along the edge of today’s market, tearing my eyes away from the amazing smelling leather bags. I await my turn at the statue. It stands nearly taller than me and its nose is bright and shiny. It is said that should you wish to return to Florence you will find luck in doing so if you give the boar’s nose a good rub. Mr W asks if I want to return, I hesitate wondering if Florence has enough to tempt me back, and then my hand reaches up and grips the metal snout. Rub. Rub. Rub. Yes, I dare say it’s a good guess I’d like to return to this city. There are wonders I think I have missed this time. Even if it means wandering the streets and enjoying the coffee there is something about this city that is speaking to me. Il Porcellino is not alone, he sits amongst leaves and tiny bronze frogs. The details remind me just how beautiful Italy is.  

The footfall at the market is building and it’s time to move on. Our wander takes us across the Ponte Vecchio, a bustling bridge lined with shops. We i-spy the Arno river below, its slow flowing pace sets the precedent for the day, the sun bounces off its surface and makes it glow. 

The hot drinks from this morning’s visit to the Caffe La Terrazza are wearing off, we need more Italian treats and we find them at Gino’s Bakery. Cannoli! The bakery has a serving hatch on the street with a window showcasing the mouthwatering treats for all of the city to see. Pizza slices, paninis encasing the meats and cheeses of the country and arancini with its tasty hidden filling. There are beautifully crisp sfogliatelle dusted with icing sugar, muffins standing tall in their cases, glazed desserts, biscotti dotted with nuts and a coffee machine whirring in the background. And there they are. Sitting in rows upon rows of delicate deliciousness. Straight soldiers of rolled, bubbled pastry filled with sweetened ricotta cheese laying in wait to be picked. There are different colours depending on which topping the cannoli has been dipped into. Each one carries different textures of chopped hazelnuts or pistachios and my favourite, tiny chocolate chips. A bag for our purchases is not needed, the delights are quickly eaten right there on the street with murmurings of mmmmm’s and ahhh’s. 

Our next stop is only a 5 minute walk away and it turns out it’s lunchtime! We’ve managed to have our dessert first. Oops! It is time for my first pizza of the trip. Gustapizza on Via Maggio is a tiny corner restaurant with three tables inside. The tables are very tall wooden barrels with glass tops, my 5’5 body hops up onto the towering stools as Mr W peruses the menu. There are 7 pizza’s total. I often find that the smaller the menu, the better the taste. Let’s see how this place matches up. Mr W orders the Gustapizza, it has cherry tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella, extra virgin olive oil and basil and when it comes it is a sea of red and green. The pizza is enormous and Mr W looks at me wide-eyed. ‘How do I eat all of this?’ he remarks. I’m too busy watching my pizza being made to offer any advice. The kitchen is right next to us, open to spectators and there are three men working as a team to create orders. The first man is stretching out the dough just one metre away. He glances up, smiling knowingly, he is confident in his work, he knows this food makes people happy. Toppings of tomato, mozzarella, spicy salami and basil are thrown together on the dough by the second guy and a wooden paddle whips away my pizza to the flame-ridden oven by a third. A short time later my pizza emerges and is placed in front of me. My mouth gapes open. This pizza is a monster! There is a fourth man wandering around welcoming new patrons, they look at the pizzas on our table and make their minds up. They sit having decided this is the place to eat today. My focus is stolen back by the glistening piping hot cheese in front of me. The meat has curled slightly at the edges and the crust has charred in places, the pizza oven’s heat has kissed the ingredients with its flames. The first bite cannot be believed, but the first slice is out of this world. No pizza back in the Uk can top this. The creamy cheese cuts through the saltiness of the meat and the basil gives it the sweet kick to tie it up in one big Italian bow. It is hands down the best pizza I have ever had the pleasure of eating. All of a sudden I remember I am not alone. I look across at Mr W. He is sitting in wide-eyed silence. His mouth is chewing but his eyes are drinking it all in. I feel a swell of pride that my research has paid off. He looks at me and nodds smacking his lips. It becomes apparent after a while that there is no way we can finish our pizzas. As if knowing thas, the fourth man brings us an empty pizza box. I am glad of the courtesy and also that in an hour from now, we will be able to again tackle the pizza in the open air of the Boboli Gardens. We pay for our pizzas and drinks and head into the ever present Italian sunshine. I remind myself we are lucky to have such beautiful weather in early autumn.

The Boboli Gardens are found inside the entrance of the Pitti Palace, after some confusion over our vouchers at the ticket office we are ushered to the security queue. Before we reach the entrance we are stopped by a scary looking art installation. Huge, lifelike iron statues of wolves are barring our way. The pack of wolves are standing in various places before the palace gates. Terrifying though they look, they are still and such a surprise that it takes a moment to walk on by. Mr W pretends that one has locked its jaws around our prized pizza box and stops for a quick photo montage. With just one handbag and the treasured delicacy in hand we know we’ll be whisked through quickly. There is a small family ahead of us, mum, dad and two small children. They have a big pram jammed with the necessaries for a family day out. Bags, food and coats are stuffed here and there. It takes them a while to move through the security scanner. We are standing in what looks like a grand courtyard surrounded by an arched walkway and I spy toilets up ahead. The absolute joy of the city break is finding a toilet you need not pay for. The two security guards usher us through easily until they ask what’s in the box. I answer with a smile that the box with a pizza drawn onto its lid does indeed hold pizza, he wags his finger ‘No’ and points to a bin. My inner obedient child wants to adhere to this crazy rule, of which there are no posters or guides to explain why food is forbidden, but my happy adult stomach is having a hard time letting go. I ask why, and again am witness to the waggle of the finger and that same finger pointing at the bin. With a deep sigh, I realise there is no way we could wolf the half a pizza that awaits both of us and Mr W drops it into the trash can. We turn away actually quite heartbroken and head on through. 

The day has taken a turn we did not expect, I had looked while planning if a picnic in the Giardino Boboli was possible and there were copious amounts of information suggesting this was the norm for a visit. Did I get something wrong? Were the security guards fishing our boxed deliciousness out of the shallow bin? Ha-ha I joke. Sort of. Mostly. Buggers.

Toilet found and used. We head towards the Anfiteatro di Boboli with its wide open space and Obelisk at its centre. I am yet to shake off the pizza incident. The sky is bluer than blue and here it feels like covid is a million miles away, but something isn’t connecting with us. We continue on through the park until we find the Vasca del Nettuno, the Fountain of Neptune in the Fontana della Signoria. It is pretty. But rather than enjoying the moment we are both wondering why we aren’t. It becomes pretty clear that museums, even open air ones with its impressive statues and Egyptian gifts aren’t quite our thing on this trip. We’ve been steeping ourselves so much into the culture here that we’ve swayed far from the tourist trail and finding our way back to it is hard. I believe if we’d invested in a guidebook we could enjoy the pockets of history in this place. Which only means one thing, a return trip! Oh dear, only if we have to!

We aim to head to the very top of Giardini Boboli to the Palazzina e Bastione del Cavaliere to make an exit and quickly cross over to the Giardini Bardini. But the exit here is closed. We check our handy paper map and find another exit at Forte Belvedere. The walk around the walled garden is in shadow and is pleasant in the afternoon sun. The trees provide the ground with a dappled shade that is both beautiful and refreshing. The next exit is also closed. What is going on?

We skirt the edge of the gardens right down to the security entrance and emerge onto Viale della Meridiana. It is a 10 minute walk in the opposite direction to Villa Bardini, the entrance to Giardino Bardini. To salvage our last afternoon in the city I urge Mr W’s tired feet onwards. The 10 minute walk takes twice as long due to the enormous hill that is the Costa San Giorgio, a back street of Florence that is the quickest yet steepest hill we’ve encountered yet. Again, what is going on? 

We are in a neighbourhood of Florence that is quiet and empty of tourists, it feels like we are trespassing. Upon reaching Giardino Bardini we are greeted with meticulously kept greenery and perfected planting. The gardens themselves are on the side of the hill we have presumably just climbed. They are spread out on different levels, each high above the Arno river and the city laid out below. From here the Duomo is tiny. Wedged between the Pitti Palace and the Piazzale Michelangelo, Giardino Bardini is a revelation. The large open spaces of the Boboli Gardens are long gone and the small intimate gardens here welcome us in their embrace. We find a bench outside La Loggetta di Villa Bardini. A large expanse of gravel leads up to a stone balustrade which gives way to a beautiful view of Florence and the mountains that stand by in a protective stance. We spend a long time sitting, stroking the resident cat and savouring the afternoon sun. Tomorrow we move onto Venice. The time here has flown.  

Forced to follow the daylight and keep on track for our evening plans, we leave the bench behind and wander down the zig-zagging path down through the gardens. There is a long sloped walkway with wisteria hanging from a pergola. At this time of year it is dense and green, the original plan was to come in April and be lucky enough to see a canopy of purple above us. Covid stopped that happening, I remind myself this is just another reason to return to this place. It seems as though we have unfinished business in Florence!

Our walk takes us past lines of hedges, rows of roses and past a vast staircase that ascends the hill to the terrace where we found the bench. This place has transformed our afternoon. It has forced us to slow down. To enjoy the smaller things we usually take for granted. We need to head back to our apartment to freshen up before our anniversary dinner. Our route back takes us over the Ponte Vecchio and the streets are busy in the evening sun. 

A quick shower and outfit change and I rush Mr W out the door. He thinks we are late and we head to the restaurant next to our apartment. This evening is a surprise for him and as he realises where we are he smiles. The secret has been worth it for that smile. His smile is my gift. The Hard Rock Cafe is somewhere we visit on our travels as a cheesy little tradition. Mr W collects the t-shirts and it’s something we’ve done since 2014. It may not be authentic Italian food, but it’s authentic to our relationship, and I love it. 

We are greeted by two proseccos ‘on the house’, they’ve been told it’s our anniversary and we settle in for the night. We order another boozy drink each and share a starter. The music is just to our taste and we are the first customers of the night. We are sat near the large stage, where a drum kit sits and take a moment to look at all the memorabilia on display. Mr W sips his long island iced tea, as I neck my prosecco and move onto my cosmopolitan. Our mains arrive and I can feel the alcohol taking effect. It’s clear very quickly that we are relaxed and in fact drunk. We say no to dessert, find a t-shirt to Mr W’s tastes and head out into the night. The darkness shrouds the city as we wander again to the Duomo, we are drawn to its presence. We have a small dessert from Venchi Cioccolato e Gelato, mesmerised by its flowing wall of chocolate and stagger slightly back to our apartment via Piazza della Repubblica. 

There is music bringing the night to life and restaurants with their tables spilling out onto the streets. I am reminded again how life has changed in the last six months. How covid has ravaged this country and the world. I finish my ice cream and thank my lucky stars, Mr W and hope to return soon. Florence, you have entranced me. For now we head to Venice! 

https://frameworktravel.home.blog/2022/05/06/stories-of-venice-part-one/

https://frameworktravel.home.blog/2022/05/07/stories-of-venice-part-two/

https://frameworktravel.home.blog/2022/05/10/stories-of-venice-part-three/

Faith in Florence

Having only been to Italy once before I had no real expectations of Florence. The only interaction I had had with the city was through a book by Dan Brown which had been turned into a movie starring the god that is Tom Hanks. That is where my knowledge started and ended. Even then the film darted from city to city and country to country. It doesn’t do much to whet the appetite. 

Mr W had always said he wanted to go and as we were to be celebrating his birthday, it was an easy decision. Bookings made, postponed due to covid and re-booked for September 2020 and here we were. 

Florence! We arrive in the city not long before 10pm and make our way from Santa Maria Novella Station to our apartment. It is a 10 minute walk to Via de Brunelleschi and the city is dark. Only a few businesses are open, mostly food on offer and we are both tired. We have to pick up our key for the apartment in another complex and my arse drops out when the man at the reception desk can’t find our key. After triple checking every drawer, lockbox and reading all instructions he finally finds it. I scoop my arse up off the floor and we continue on our way. We glimpse the Duomo as we emerge from Via Martelli. It appears ghostly in the dark night with only a few lights shining on the green, pink and white marble facade. It doesn’t feel real. We’ve been travelling for over 7 hours, travelling during covid is different enough to make the hours longer, and we are ready to rest our backpacks. The city is falling to sleep and we aren’t far behind. 

We fall into the most amazing apartment and sleep soundly. Mr W in particular wonders what the morning will bring!

The following morning feels like a dream. We aren’t used to arriving so late into a city and so waking up here this morning is like arriving all over again. Before we found the apartment the night before we grabbed a breaded chicken panini and half of it is waiting for us in the fridge. Our day begins at 8am and I find myself praising the huge shower. I need to wash the previous day off my body and out of my mind. It is a luxury I do not want to leave. The sun is gleaming outside and I am wondering whether my choice of jeans and a jumper is appropriate.

Our first port of call this morning is the Palazzo Vecchio and Arnolfo’s Tower. It’s only a 6 minute walk and there aren’t many distractions, the city is still waking up. There are street cleaners whirring by and only a few other people going about their morning. Piazza della Signoria is enormous. The sun engulfs the entire space. Arnolfo tower makes a statement both against the blue sky and with its shadow on the ground. We have arrived. Welcome. Hiding in the shadow we can see how the space is blindingly lit from above and many of the restaurants around the square are slowly opening their doors to the new day. We are early for the Palazzo Vecchio guided tour to the Tower and Mr W requires coffee. 

We wander all of 30 seconds and find a small eatery. Caffe San Firenze will sit roughly 10 people, but as we soon learn, the counter is where the action happens. As we sit and sip our coffees, people walk in, order, drink their coffees and pay in less than five minutes. This is a quick stop place and we are here to witness it all. This is the Italy I love. The intimate moments here, that in England are both boring and forgotten. Caffeine gloriously flooding our veins, we head back to the Palazzo. Our tour isn’t a typical talking tour, the only reason we have a guide is to see the tower. That’s the only way to see it. By being led, I imagine it’s safer and numbers can be monitored. And by safer i mean, it’s a long way up and therefore a long way down! To maintain the integrity and beauty of the tower there are no guide or safety rails. Hence the guide or dare I say chaperone.

We are in the main entrance of the Palazzo and are sent up to the most awe-inspiring spectacle I am yet to witness. The hall of the five hundred, the Salone dei Cinquecento, is absolutely stunning. It’s paintings are vast and are actually hard to comprehend. The sheer size and detail stops you in your tracks. The only thing in the room that tears away your gawking eyes is the panelled ceiling. It. Is. A. Wonder. 

We have to leave to start our tour. So we, a group of ten, start our ascent. We are taken through the winding maze of staircases, rooms and corridors. Mr W and I are nervous about the walk up the tower. I have a fear of spiral staircases, I thank the Sacre Coeur for that, and Mr W worries about his asthma. Ignoring the stairs we have already climbed up into rooms, and then down again, before turning corners and heading up more, we have 233 steps up inside the tower. I am praying for normal staircases. And there they are. Not a spiral in sight. Dark stone stairs that just keep going.  As our group is small and the only ones permitted in the tower the nerves have subsided. We don’t feel hurried at all. Unlike other stone staircases I have climbed, this one is warm and I am glad for the ascent to end. The breeze at the top of the tower is glorious but pales in comparison to the view. 

Having seen rooftops of Italy only once before in Rome I have forgotten the earthy red tones of the roof tiles. The view stretches for miles like a red carpet. I could sit up here all day. The bells of the tower are above us held up by old wooden beams. I think for a second about the weight of the bells and the strength of the aged structure. What if they should fall? If it is my time I am happy to be doing what I love to do. With the person I love to do it with. 

The view from here is the perfect introduction to the city. You could say it was planned with this in mind. Wink wink. From up here we see the Arno river. Almost green in the sunlight. It creates a natural divide on the map of the city. From this lofty space we see the Duomo in all her glory. Rising 114 metres from street level it dominates the skyline. The surrounding buildings bow to its presence. I am strangely drawn to its immense stature. 

As always, I am reminded of why the Duomo is here in the first place. Faith. As an atheist I often find myself wondering how blind faith can lead to something so substantial being built. And yet I am drawn to them. I don’t mean to kneel at their gates and alters and utter silent words to a god. I am drawn to the blind faith and how it guides people everyday. It may not be my path but the more I see these cities the more I respect the faith people have. 

The faith the world has lost sight of in the past 6 months is on my mind. Covid has ravaged the world. Horrors unseen on such a scale in my lifetime have dominated the headlines and inch by inch taken our confidence in the world and the future. 

Up above this new city, I feel like myself. I’m exploring again. I’m believing again. Possibilities are creeping back. My faith is getting ready to return.