On social media there are photos of children in their clean and ironed school uniforms. They are standing still for the first photo of the new school year. There are remarks about how time has flown and how much has changed in one year.
I’ve never noticed it before but today was unreal. Photo after photo. And then there’s me excited to be travelling again soon. It made me feel like travel is our baby. That with others around me chatter revolves around children and babies and with us it is what country or city is next. Is travel a distraction? Is that all it has ever been?
That may sound dramatic but when you start feeling like something is missing in your life you ultimately look back at choices to see if things could have been different. The truth is that no, travel, although an escape in my late teens/early twenties, is one of the greatest joys in my life today. It makes me strong, confident and the best version of myself. I am grateful to be able to still go out into the world as much as we do now and to have Mr W with me.
Today I started feeling really guilty about the time I have spent travelling instead of finding a way to deal with my fertility issues. Hey guess what, if you had a baby six years ago, you’d be sending a child off to school today. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. But again, you question everything in your life when you are feeling particularly sad. What could I have done differently? Nothing.
And that’s the truth.
I hope when the day comes that I’ll show my child the picture of me in my uniform and tell them about my school days. I hope to take the picture of them on the doorstep as they take the leap into their scholastic life. One day I hope to share that photo with the people around me who have waited just as long as me to see it.
For now I have no one to send to school. So I take the joy in the things I do have instead of those I don’t. I want to be mentally healthy for the baby I will one day hold in my arms.
Are they the symbol of a fresh start? A chance for something new?
Booking our honeymoon to the Maldives during October was always going to be fraught with less than perfect weather. Stubborn as we were, it was a case not wanting to wait to go away after our wedding. In fact we drove to the airport hotel directly from our wedding venue. Luckily the hotel was beautiful and we started our day with a gorgeous breakfast and Mr W took advantage of the in house pool. I’ve said on previous ‘Maldives’ blogs how little we thought of the possibility of rain while there due to the fact of how much time we would be spending in the water.
Water = wet.
Rain = wet.
For a week we spent our time taking full advantage of the VIP access restaurant and its delectable food options, swimming the shallow warm waters and visiting its colourful aquatic inhabitants. The only thing we couldn’t do is have breakfast outside. The likelihood of losing one’s breakfast to the turquoise sea below was considerably high in the early morning winds. Our breakfast was delivered to us on white linen table cloths in the private restaurant on the pier where our villa was. Due to the ferocious winds, we found ourselves within the walls of wood and glass unable to experience that all too luxurious, picture perfect moment. The wind’s, to be fair, weren’t too bad, but as the sun was shrouded by clouds, it was a cooler experience than desired in the early morning. The view was still the same, but isn’t there a deep human need to be closer and within something to really feel it? Yes, it is most definitely the trait of stubbornness!
On morning number 8 we woke to find the lagoon bluer than they had ever been. The sun had arrived. I have never seen clearer water in my life. The winds were still there but they sashayed the heat from the sun to our bodies and we found bliss in its kiss. Arriving at breakfast felt brand new. The walkways that surrounded the breakfast rooms were now littered with tables and chairs. The staff were smiling knowingly. Below us the waters showcased their attributes. They teemed with life. A cuttlefish swam up to the pier and disappeared from sight. Its silvery body shone in the shallow water and as it shimmied through the water ribbons of colour flowed up and down its form. This is the best way I can describe it. It was mesmerising.
After breakfast we made our way back to our water villa. Fully intending to sample the heat for as long as it was staying. After a few hours of swimming and drying off on our private deck sun loungers we made our way across the island to reception. We had heard there would be a boat trip should the weather improve and we had kept an eye on this one particular trip.
The boat held us and perhaps another 8 people. It was painted stark white with the odd touch of bright colours. Benches lined the outsides of the deck and it floated low in the water. A roof overhead told us we were safe from any surprise downpours should they not blow in through the open sides. As soon as we set off, the sea beds of the lagoon fell away and the deep waters of the Indian ocean introduced themselves to us. Out there, the winds were strong and Mr W gave me the shirt off of his back. My new husband was playing the part of Prince charming very well.
As the boat cruised into the open ocean the sounds from the boat’s engine were subdued by the clapping from the two crewmen on board. Unsure of what was going on, the Brits on board smiled awkwardly and pretended nothing was out of the ordinary. That was until the first cries of ‘Look, there’ were sounded.
From out of the water surrounding the boat creatures were throwing their bodies into the air. As they did they spun like ballerina’s. The dolphins had dark grey bodies with an almost baby pink coloured belly. Dozens jumped from the water, spinning through the air and landing back into the water with graceful splashes. They seemed to be putting on a show having been drawn out of the depths by the clapping of hands. Everyone on board turned to clapping and in turn the dolphins came closer and closer. As the bow of the boat broke the surface waves, water was sent down the sides of the hull with a frothy disposition. The spinner dolphins began to swim in the waters of the broken waves and were so close everyone on board emitted noises of shock and awe.
All too soon the experience was over. We returned to our island grinning. The short trip had been enough to appease the explorers in us who had been relatively quiet for a week. Slowly walking along the sandy paths we came upon our pier. The sky was lit up with the sunset. Yellows turned to oranges, which in turn changed to reds, purples and the deepest of blues. The sun had gone to bed. It was time we did the same.
Today 23 members of my family got together under a cloudless sky, huddled under a gazebo to enjoy food and drink together.
The BBQ was roaring, the music blaring and the laughter was carried through the space on the subtle breeze.
My two beautiful nieces ran around entertaining everyone whilst life stories were caught up on.
The sun beat down mercilessly and yet for the first time in weeks it wasn’t a bother. I sat and watched my family together and felt happy.
Solely happy to be a part of something so big and wonderful.
The family will be growing soon. It’s funny when you are young, you think you have a big family. I have 5 cousins which is relatively small. But when you, your two brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents are all in one room the space makes the family seem enormous. As time wears on, partners enter the mix and the numbers almost double. And then came the children. Now there are three babies to be born into our large family in the next couple of months. The brood is now getting very large.
New stories. New lives. New everything.
As we were driving home. I looked up and saw the big, beautiful moon and started thinking about all the people who too would be looking up at its beauty. I wondered if they had big families. Whether they saw them often. How different peoples’ lives can be for the better or for the worse when it comes to the families they belong to.
As we drove towards that moon I started thanking the big wide universe for the privilege of being in a family like mine. Not everyone has it. Not everyone acknowledges it. Not everyone takes the time to sit and drink it all in.
Whether it’s by choice or circumstance not everyone does or can. I’m just lucky.
She thought moving on would be hard. Thinking of him turns to thinking of him with disdain not longing. The songs that remind her of him are just songs now. Their lyrics are something to sing along to, rather than analyse word by word. Sad songs are relaxing, not threatening and the song he loved to dance to, well she hated it before anyway. The guy in the crowd that looks like him is just another guy. The potential sighting makes her dart and duck behind the person in front for fear of being seen. In fact, now that she is moving on, she sees that the guy in the crowd is cute. The shirts he wore. The cologne she loved. His side of the bed. Lazy Sundays. All gone. Pushed to the back of her now, not fragile, but resolute mind and replaced by hope and excitement for the future. It’s easy, in fact, how did she really know she loved him? Or was it just infatuation? Hundreds of guys smell of that cologne. Hell, walk too close to the counter at The Perfume Shop and so will anyone for a week. Pssst Givenchy. No thanks. The bed is now hers, a kingdom of fluffy pillows, soft duvets and all the stretching out space in the world. Aces! Denial. What a rip off. Only when she is truly in it will she feel happy and even then she won’t know about it. But times like these when the excuses are just that, excuses, does she realise she isn’t happy moving on. She is not happy in the big scary world. The truth is, she knows it’s not easy. And she knows it won’t be solved in a day. However she also notices the lies and excuses she made up for his shortcomings. They are now replaced by the ones to help her move on. Which in the end kicks denials arse! Hi- Yah!!
I hope anyone going through a patch of denial finds comfort in the fact that it does not last forever. It did for the lady in this piece. I got better.
Love is a dream. Feelings seem superhuman. Your ‘other half’ is miraculously god-like. And everything is pink, fuzzy and rejoicing at the both of you being together. Furthermore, you are different. Optimistic. Smiley. Bouncing around on clouds that whizz around you in puffy heart shapes. Then you hear the next door neighbours drill. Or a car backfire. Or an overbearing sibling, ‘Yeah, mate, pub 1 o’clock, bring your drinking liver.’ You’re blasted out of the dream before you can say 2 point 4 children and a white picket fence. The outside ‘no duvets allowed’ world is rainy and cold. People don’t look at you like you belong with Zeus and that your smile is perfect to warm this winter’s day. They don’t look at you at all. You’re just another person on this planet getting out of bed. Leaving the dreams behind and stumbling down the stairs, briefly child-like again, learning how to use your legs. Stumbling. Wiping your hand across your eyes to clear the misty waters and sleep that has gathered. Almost as if it had bound your eyes shut for you to enjoy the dream for as long as possible. Awake. Aware. The dream is gone. You’ve moved on. From the dream. From him. You’re learning how to walk again, albeit with help from the bannister. Brushing the endless pink fluffy clouds from your sleepy eyelids. You have learnt that a dream is unnatural and that this is life. Cold, dark and unsmiling.
You reach the end of your descent. There is a noise in the kitchen. There he is. Making breakfast. Your latest favourite. Poached eggs on toast. The kettle is boiling and he has the radio on. He is here. Outside the dreamworld.
You walk up behind him. Put your hands on his shoulders. Yep, still real. You slide them down his arms and join them together on his chest. You are on tiptoes to meet his height. He is still, acknowledging your embrace and his hands find yours in their return of the ‘Hey you’.
Online you have seen that other couples, your friends, have been out for brunch at a well-known, hard-to-get-reservations London restaurant. You have spent the morning in bed, coffee, book, music, lounging in each other’s company. It is already noon. Your brunch will be the eggs that cook in the pan. This is the dream.
The mundane activities aren’t mundane anymore. Shopping for socks and people watching from the food court. Making the bed because you have forgotten when it was last changed. Talking about your ideas for the next piece of DIY. Watering the garden to nurture what you have sown and grown. The pink clouds are gone from the dreamworld, they have left behind the very real white clouds that you both trace across the sky while you plan your next adventure. Warm, light and full of life.
I used to work in Central London. Did you know that?
Monday to Friday, the Central Line at 7:30am, Holborn by 8:30am, navigating the streets of the city at rush hour. Squeezing myself into carriages on the way home, getting a seat maybe 5 stops from home. It was what I did.
Something has changed. Whether it be covid or being out of the fray too long I’m really not sure. Since 2020 Mr W and I have actively avoided crowded places. It seemed logical in the beginning. Even in early 2021, it felt like the must-do action when living in a pandemic. As time wore on it became quite apparent that it was harder to integrate back into our old life.
Or was it?
As you may have read in ‘Engaging moments’ (link below), my aversion to crowds has upset things before. Mr W’s proposal was meant to be in Rockefeller centre under the Christmas tree and yet before he could do the one-knee bend, I raced from the vicinity with a gusto I normally reserve for friendly dogs or rainbow chasing. The realisation of the crowd before me made my heart race and my palms sweat. Maybe if I had anticipated the mass of people I could have coped better.
Yesterday we went to Newmarket, dressed up pretty damn nicely, watched the horses, basked in the sun together and enjoyed every single minute. As the sun moved towards the horizon we made our way to the stage in the centre of the complex. Only four people deep in the crowd, the view of the stage was amazing. Forsaking the up front viewing of the last race we staked our claim for the next 2 and a half hours. Then my horse went and came 1st! Mr W moved away to grab my winnings while the crowds rolled in behind me. In a sea of people my nerves rolled in too. I held my ground as people jostled me, pushed past and generally looked past me. He was taking his time, the queues must have been long, and I soon started craning my neck to find him at the back of the swarm.
After a few minutes I spotted him as he edged his way closer. Two particularly stubborn people ignored his polite ‘excuse me’s’ and I had to forsake our closer than close viewing spot and join him a few metres back. As soon as I took his hand. I felt calm. My breath returned to my chest.
10 minutes later The Script lit up the night. Live music, is there anything else more invigorating? As they played to the crowd the old feelings for music crept back. Music does not have the same place in my heart as it once did and I vowed there and then to listen to more. The crowd was full of energy and the festival vibe was definitely in the air. 40 or so minutes in, the band made their way into the fray and walked straight past me. It was exhilarating to be up close and personal to the band I have loved for 14 years.
As they walked past and away the crowd let them through and then closed ranks. The jostling took an unexpected turn and I felt myself clamp down on Mr W’s hands. Something had sparked inside me and it took me a moment to calm down. The band played two songs at the rear of the enclosure and we took solace in the calmness at the new back of the crowd. And then they returned, it was a treat that they came back our way, but this time my body stalled in panic. The jostling would return. And it did but prepared for it I felt okay.
The band continued their amazing set and the crowd went into hyperdrive. The setting sun cast an amber glow over the scene and I sang my heart out. Two of my favourite songs made tears spring from my eyes and Mr W took the camera owing to my need to dance along.
In the moving crowd Mr W had gone from next to me to behind me. I was not complaining at 6ft tall he towers over me and with his arms at my side I felt the deepest sense of protection. As night fell so did the behaviour of the crowd and security had to rush into the mob as people became rowdier and frantic. A couple next to me were staggering on the spot, their elbows digging into my body but it was okay, his arms were around me.
From somewhere behind I heard ‘Oh don’t you just have the best shoulders.’ and then Mr W’s muffled voice returned the conversation. My head whipped round to find a slurring woman engaging with the compliment. I am not a stranger to Mr W getting compliments, he is an extremely handsome man, a damn right silver fox and yes his shoulders and arms are incredible. It was four years ago that we went to an extremely young club to celebrate a family’s birthday. At 30 years old I was years older than the teeny boppers in situ and at 8 years older than me (you do the maths) Mr W was definitely noticing a change since his last time in a similar venue. As we sipped our drinks by the bar he made a comment to me like ‘my god I feel old’, I smiled and carried on my chatter. From behind me an arm reached over my shoulder, patted him on the chest and shouted ‘you ain’t old’ in a twee girlish voice. I remember whipping my head round then to see what can only be described as a foetus in a plaid dress making doe eyes at my soon to be husband. In disbelief I laughed as the awkwardness set in on Mr W’s face. I felt the same last night. Turning around the woman was complimenting his shoulders and how he must be a swimmer and how lovely it was to see him protecting his wife. I smiled and uttered the taboo words of ‘I get really anxious’.
Well the flood gates of her mouth opened as she announced that she worked in the NHS, saw anxiety all the time in her job and how she would tell people to ‘fuck off’ out my way if I needed her to. The truth was, her talking to me, drunk, had set my anxiety off worse than ever. I can’t do small talk and drunk people are a massive trigger for me. I nodded along and eventually passed the conversation over to my husband. He took it in his stride and entertained her for 10 minutes. I danced along to the music as best as I could while he squeezed my arms with our secret code of ‘omg what have we got ourselves into’. Asking me what my name was, the lady gave me a massive hug, a kiss on the cheek and danced off into the night.
And then everything changed. All of a sudden his arms clamped around me and pulled me back. A fight had broken out just in front of us and 5 or 6 security guards had rushed in. The crowd had responded by backing up and into people. People being me. Before I even knew what had happened I had been pulled out of the melee and held tightly. I turned to ask what was going on and my anxiety sky-rocketed. I felt my hands start to shake. The music thudded through my chest and my heart met it with competitive beats. Holding up my phone for a photo I saw the screen shaking. I was losing it and the tears on my cheeks knew it. I put my hands on his hands on my waist and listened to the music. I sang as my heart rate slowed. Their final song came to an end and I cried for the beautiful night, the experience and the feelings of loss. Where was the brave person I once knew?
As the crowd dispersed, a woman approached me and told me about a quicker exit from the area if I needed it. It was a beautiful gesture and I thanked her profusely. There needs to be more people like her. However, and this isn’t a bad thing, it only made me more aware than ever about how my problem has gotten worse. I stood for a moment enveloped in my husband’s arms and melted. I do not want to be like this. He held me and said he would never let anything happen to me. Ever. And I just stood there. Wondering how he could possibly stop the anxiety and the panic. And yet I knew he couldn’t. He would hold my hand, guiding me through, sometimes backwards but mostly forwards. And at my pace. Whether it made sense or not.
After a slow walk to the car, I felt my equilibrium return and decided to turn the ‘ordeal’ of the evening in my favour. The band was amazing. Mr W had finally seen them live with me. The night air was warm and calm. My new dress fit the bill. And I hadn’t walked away. This wasn’t Rockefeller Centre. This was louder, more frantic and yet I stayed. I could have left but I didn’t. It is a win. However small the victory seems.
Be kind to yourself. Don’t hide away something that is a part of you. It is a part of you. Not all of you.
They remind us of where we’ve been, what we’ve done and what we’ve lived through. Big or small; they all have a story. Real or unseen; they sometimes never heal. Nothing looks the same again now the rose-tinted glasses have fallen.
The tissue that covers the once exposed wound is like the denial you live in everyday; it covers the bad but still shouts out for attention. like a tattooist you gave them permission to cut into you, deep, leaving an everlasting mark on your history. On your being. On every hope you ever had. We can look at the irreversible scars as bars we are trapped behind. The lines we once crossed and can’t erase. The marks made we didn’t see until etched too dark to delete. We see the history on our skin everyday; play it though our minds interwoven with shattered dreams. I pull down my cuff, my sleeve is my silver lining. I no longer fear the past. The damage is done; it is not bigger than me. It’s as big as I allow it to be. The rain stops and the sun peeks from behind the smallest cloud. The rays nourish me, the scar isn’t as ugly anymore, it fades with the impending hope. We grow from our past. I am bigger and stronger than my past will ever be. The path we have led winds back and away. You can move forward.
They are the map of the past. Leading us into a clearer future.
There are planned moments in life that fall into place and make you sigh happily.
There are other times that creep up on you, making you abandon all worries as you laugh unreservedly and giddy.
Today I experienced both.
I have a brother who lives 270 miles away and due to covid it has been a rare blessing to see him and his family. Due to home and work commitments it is hard to spare the 3-4 days needed for a proper catch up and time needed to spend with my beautiful nieces. They are growing so fast. I can still see them both as babies in my arms and yet somehow they are 8 and nearly 4 years of age.
As we travelled to Northumberland today, Alnwick to start, we found a unique opportunity to spend some stolen hours together. The sneaky one and I spoke briefly during the week about how it could work and a loose plan was set.
On this trip we have brought my dad and his partner, Pat, sharing a place this special to us with our loved ones is half the experience this time. To sneak my brother and his family into the mix would mean a lot to them both.
We started the day at 5am, car packed and raring to go. By the 100th game of ‘guess the song, its singer/band and year of release’ we had waved hello to the Angel of the North and counted down the last few miles to stop number one. Alnwick has so very much to offer and we had to cram the highlights in in just 7 hours. First up, shopping! The town is so pretty and had plenty of charity shops piled high with books to please my dad’s literary eye. There was even a craft market that took their fancy and a passing puppy that took mine. With lunch on the horizon we made our way into the grounds of Alnwick castle and after a quick sandwich break it was onto the next stop: crazy golf! It’s called the Forgotten Garden and transports your mind back to the ‘Honey I shrunk the kids’ movie. Among the beautiful plants and tall trees there are huge sculptures of bugs. A giant, lazy earthworm, two flapping winged bees atop a hive and a very naughty spider. At £4 a person it was an absolute delight and I’m imploring you to go if you ever visit Alnwick. In fact, here’s the link: https://www.alnwickgarden.com/families/golf/
I don’t get anything for sharing the link apart from the knowledge that it helps you and spreads the joy of this place. I’m sure I was distracted by the impending suprise arrival of the family that I came last, yes of course that’s why, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it! Unfortunately they were held up finding a car park and I wondered how to play the part of an aloof distraction. However, help in the form of ice cream arrived and I spent way too long eating a small tub of banoffee ice cream that I think Mr W at least suspected something was afoot.
The plan was for Mr W and I to go our own way for a few hours while our ‘guests’ visited the castle. Starring as the backdrop in the first two Harry Potter films the castle is a must visit to all Hogwarts fans. But where was my brother? Heaven sent me another saving grace in the form of rain and we took shelter under a tree. I took the opportunity to ask Mr W to take some photos buying me more time as the sneaky one raced her family through the castle to our location. Swapping places with Mr W I was able to click away as my brother snuck up behind my dad and the surprise was unleashed.
It’s a happy blur that my tired brain will no doubt let me visit again after a deep night’s sleep. But my niece raced at me with hugs and we all stood beneath the tree sheltering from the rain and in each other’s arms. Happy sighs cascaded from our mouths as the rain fell from above and encased us under the tree and in the moments glow.
Happy sighs.
Splitting up for a brief while Mr W and I turned back to spend some time in Alnwick Gardens. Expecting rows of roses, lines of lupins and tamed topiary I found myself proven very wrong indeed. Taking up a huge amount of the garden is an absolutely enormous multi-levelled fountain that screamed ITALY so loudly I could practically smell the pizza, pasta and prosecco. But no, we are in the North-East of England. After a quick cuppa, we head on a tour of the poison garden, through beautiful crafted tunnels of hornbeam that reach 15ft into the air and create a nest of green away from the heat of the day and into the stunning ornamental gardens. We follow the streams that bubble over pebbles down the staggered steps towards a curving cascade of bushes that create a serpentine maze that hugs individual illuminating water features. Made of metal they gleam like highly polished mirrors in the 3pm sun. It all became clear, whilst sipping my tea I saw a young boy of 8 or 9 in trunks with a towel about his shoulders. These water features are to be engaged with. To be seen, touched and enjoyed. We make our way around them, casually reaching out fingertips to touch the cool water on the humid day. They are fascinating. Mr W sends cascades of water my way. I flicked it back. We take pictures in the reflections. We laugh. We are giddy.
Happy again, this time in a moment of child-like innocence. Pure and free from all adult concerns. Nose dripping from the water falling from my forehead and hair, we return to our family and feel a million miles from home and yet closer to our sense of being than we have in a very long time.
The memory of this writer is bitter sweet. I remember everything I want but not many things I need. I remember someone asking me what Snow Patrol meant when they sang ‘ let’s waste time, chasing cars, around our heads’. Its not integral to name the questioning person but it’d be nice to give them some kind of recognition for their inspiration. Its hard looking for it and when you have it even harder to put it down on paper, luckily enough I ‘knew’ the answer and share with you today my musings. For many music is a medium in which we find answers; in which we find entertainment on that packed train and in which we find ourselves. Our dreams and hopes. It helps us run away from the bad times and unite in times of good. A favourite song can help tell a lot about a person, mine being the one in question. A self proclaimed emotional masochist this song isn’t the best option, it tears at the soul and tugs on the heart strings. Struggling until resistance is futile and we sit in a pool of our own despair. On my other more resilient side is held the meaning I find more alluring. This song gives me hope about finding the one whom I can sit and ‘chase cars’ with. To my friend who posed the question, don’t you see? Don’t you all see, chasing cars can be anything; anyone you wish it to be. Chasing a dream you have. Its being with him/her and doing nothing. Having no words spoken and knowing all. Lying apart without touch and feeling everything. To be together. That possibility keeps me going on in this sometimes but very rarely mundane life. They, the person chasing that car waiting for you to join them could be on the platform next to you. In the same office. On the walk to a drink with friends. It only takes a moment and you’re hit. Smacked with the next possible ‘one’. Unpredictable? Yes. But isn’t it comforting knowing that until then you have the hope that doesn’t fade because everyone has their own car to chase after.
It encapsulated her, so tight at times it suffocated rather than protecting her broken shell. No air came in. No air went out. Dying inside her own stronghold, she curled up and let it take hold.
‘A chain is only as strong as its weakest link’…
Her chains have been wrapped, fused and bound for so long it became hard to imagine them falling to the ground. Whether she had control over them was even harder to imagine.
He came like a knight and ‘chinked’ her armour. The light was let in and it breathed new air into the darkness. The self-made prison released her and she fell weak kneed into unfamiliar territory. Over time the pieces of armour fell off completely and she was left to his mercy, without control and darkness.
The light stung her eyes, revealed to their new surroundings they saw him and why he had come. He was there for her. To release her from her chains and demons.
Framework Travel 