I had planned to be in Cornwall on holiday, but last week I decided not to go. My stay would have coincided with the G7 Summit, held in Carbis Bay, where I lived for a year – what are the chances! There will be security restrictions in the village. They’re even closing footpaths for two weeks from the start of June. It doesn’t sound like much fun.Continue reading
I’m hoping to go to back to Cornwall in the next month. Obviously, this is dependent on Covid rules; I won’t go if it’s not safe and legal.
Since the first lockdown, my trip has been postponed several times, and though it was sad, it has given me something to look forward to. Hope is a strange thing. I’m praying it works out this time.Continue reading
Hannah 1 – Travel Anxiety 0
The ten-hour train journey from Cornwall to North Wales turned out to be easy. It helps that I’ve travelled the route twice before with other people. It’s the first time I’ve been on a train on my own though!
When something causes me anxiety, the key is planning. I wrote careful lists of what to take and in which bags, kept notes about train times and station practicalities, and visualised all the changes and taxi logistics. This probably sounds obsessive (because it is, teehee). But it doesn’t keep me in a control-freak trap.
‘Obsessive’ preparation tricks my mind into believing there’s Continue reading
I’m giddy. Look at this!
I nearly didn’t leave the house today, but as soon as I did I was completely overwhelmed by the Continue reading
Room 101 Series: Day 5/7
Okay, Virgin Train Toilet, I don’t want to be talked at when I’m trying to do my business. Not even a little bit. Well, you can tell me that the door is safely locked, but then be quiet.
Speaking of which, those doors are creepy, although full marks for disabled access. I’m a control freak – I don’t want my doors opened and closed at the push of a button and, more specifically, I don’t want them locked and unlocked that way. Nobody wants to be the person who doesn’t remember to lock it…I digress.
When I was travelling by train recently, the Continue reading
I sat opposite my brother, Jonny, at first, before moving to my reserved seat at the table across the aisle. There was a mother and her grownup daughter, off for a day out in Chester. The retired lady opposite me was going to visit her daughter in London.
We had only been chatting for a few minutes when a man walked up.
‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘I can hear you at the back of the carriage. I booked a seat in the quiet carriage because I wanted it quiet.’
We would have been Continue reading
‘I’m in no rush,’ he said, gently, as he waited for a couple to move out of the train aisle.
‘I love those words,’ I whispered to Mum.
It’s something I only say when I’m in the best mood, and is very telling – or at least I think so.
‘I’m in no rush’ represents a Continue reading
Aunty and I sat in a café area at Paddington station, sipping deliciously-milky lattes, with our bags safely tucked under the table.
‘Do you love to watch people?’ she asked, peering over my shoulder. I knew I’d chosen the wrong side of the table.
It seems we have far more in common than a big nose. ‘Yes! It’s the best thing ever.’
‘Some extremely glam people here…’
I smoothed down my dress and flicked a stray lock of hair (well, one of them) behind my ear. ‘Love that about cities; such a mix.’
We were soon walking down Platform 10 and boarding the next train, with its almost deserted carriages and much bigger seats than the previous ones – they made me feel as if I’d shrunk in the wash!
As we passed Exeter, our eyes were drawn away from our books to the Continue reading
Aunty and I are on the train to London Euston. First Class; a first for me! We have already raided our goody bags and I’ve managed to consume the heavy brioche muffin (or whatever it was).
I have a slightly nervous stomach, or perhaps that’s because I’ve already written my journal on the rocking train, and I’m excited. It’s as if I’m heading home.
I wonder how I feel this way when I’ve never lived in Cornwall and probably never will; I haven’t even visited for sixteen years. Yet here I am, on my way to St Ives, home of the Continue reading
There it was: Notre-Dame. An impressive cathedral. You had to be impressed by the Gothic architecture, with its towering presence, rows of statues, and incredible detail, as you stood outside with hundreds of people from all over the world. You had to be impressed by it. It’s Notre-Dame.
We took two photos and then joined a long queue. Unlike those encountered at airport security, French customs, and the RER ticket machine, this queue was quick-moving: free admittance. The herd of humans pushed in.
I enjoyed studying the effects of tourism in my Geography A-Level, and I found the issues flicking into my mind as I approached the world-famous landmark. Environmental damage, or environmental protection…etc. Someone bumped into me from behind.
‘Which is this?’ I pondered.
As soon as we reached the entrance, I wrapped Rach’s cardigan around my waist, out of respect for the ‘No Shorts’ sign. No one complained. I was aware of it as I walked around though, keeping as much of my legs covered as possible – not that my shorts were as short as a couple of the skirts that made it in! Disrespect for locals’ values.
We studied the signs and each little chapel, and were in awe of the stained-glass windows. Cultural preservation. I wished that more people would Continue reading