Any day now...

I placed the bunches carefully onto the kitchen worktop with the rest of the shopping and began to put everything away. I snipped off the elastic bands holding the stems together and trimmed the ends. Over the next couple of days, I casually glanced at the buds as I walked past the vase. I looked at them whilst making coffee, momentarily eyed them up before going to bed, and glanced at them as I sang. I was looking forward to the beautiful burst of bright yellow that was to come. I waited…and waited…and waited. Finally, by the 4th day, the first bud was beginning to bloom. It seemed a little slow in coming, but at least the flowering was imminent. Making my breakfast the following morning, my heart sank. The flower that had showed so much promise the day before was now already withering away. Then, one by one, the daffodil buds came and went without so much as a fizzle. 
I couldn’t understand it. 1 week of hope, 7 days of willing, 168 hours of expectation led to this moment: the moment I finally realised that they were never going to bloom. 
As I popped the brown stems into the compost bin, I began to think about hope and how, sometimes in life, things don’t quite turn out the way we want them to. With all the want and will in the world, some things are just not meant to be at that precise moment. But what if nothing is for nothing? What if the things that don’t work out eventually lead somewhere else entirely? That other place in which we laugh that little bit louder, dance that little bit lighter and shine just that little bit brighter.

Slowly, but surely

My friend is old. Very old. He makes me chuckle. As we both enter the manicured garden, he sinks his head into his dark shell to acclimatise. Within a few seconds, my bare feet hit the cool grass and feel instantly refreshed. Gently placing him down, I watch as his little head pops out of hiding to stretch his neck out once more.
A beautiful day for a stroll.
I am mesmerised by him. The way he looks around and surveys his surroundings brings a smile to my face. He is at peace in his home. His home, in which he has lived for decades, is his familiar. His little legs move slowly forward, dragging his bulky shell along one step at a time. He ambles over to investigate this friendly giant, now sitting on the grass with him. Touching my leg with his head, he looks up at me. I know what he loves. I come bearing gifts. One by one, he munches on delicious strawberry tops and juicy dandelion heads. He is slow and elegant and lovely.
As he continues to feast, I watch and wonder about how fast everything seems to be spinning in the world. We text as we walk, work as we fly, and eat on the run. At times, it's easy to feel lost and overwhelmed by our gigantic juggling act. We all have hopes and dreams and places to be. But as much as we push forward and strive to achieve, sometimes we just need to stop for a moment and take stock. A little time to simply breathe and be. Comfortable in our own shell.
And once we slow down just enough to look around, we might just realise we are closer to our dreams than we thought.

Living the dream

The first wall goes up easily. A wall turns into a room. A room turns into a house. Wallpaper up and a wooden floor down, the stylish furniture goes in. A bed, a sofa, a TV, a coffee machine. Sun shining, pink blossom trees get planted around the poolside without a single bead of sweat ever falling from my brow.
Then I move in.
I walk over to the wardrobe which sits next to the beautiful flowers and slip into smart casual. Nice.
Then my dog arrives. She loves her new home. After a quick look around she immediately begins to dig a hole in the freshly-mowed lawn. I am not bothered. I am too busy chatting to my new acquaintance. We become friends. Then with a single kiss, we become something else. He is perfect.
Without realising, I find myself lost in a moment of creating the perfect life. Only it's not a real life. Hitting the save button, I close the game down and take a sip of my coffee. And as I sit there enjoying a few minutes of peace, I can't help but think about all the things in life that I have yet to achieve. Hopes and dreams that live deep in my heart. I wonder what they will look like. Will they be how I imagined? Or something else entirely? And in amongst all the things I want, lies everything that I really need; the things that help me to grow, to laugh, to learn, to change. I suddenly get the feeling that I haven't even scratched the surface. Sometimes we think we know exactly what we need in life, the things that will bring us happiness. And sometimes we are right on the money. But occasionally we need to let go of everything we think we know in order to open ourselves up to new opportunities.
And maybe, just maybe, everything we need has been right under our nose the whole time.

Unseen

The woman struggling with her dog, picking up poo, doesn't see the man in the car reading a map. Lost in the page, he doesn't see the joggers whizz by in their fluorescent Lycra. Eyes forward, they are blind to the teenager on the other side playing keep-up with the ball at the traffic lights.
The wind picks up, swirling a little light dust up into the Brazilian midday air. And it continues on.
The little girl, holding her mummy's hand across the road, is oblivious to the woman paying for the full tank of gas and a pack of mint chewing gum. She can't see the green parakeet land in a branch overhead, or the black cat running along a crumbling wall.
And none of them see me sitting in a grey car surrounded by traffic. Still. Invisible. Witnessing.
As I look around at the snapshot of the city, I begin to think about the billions of people all living under a single blue sky. Everything we can ever imagine is happening right at this very minute. People are loving and people are dying. People are laughing and people are trying. Moments of people's lives rush through my mind. Separate and connected.
A horn blasts up ahead and traffic begins to move once more.
The woman with her dog, the lost man, the footballer, the child, the chewing gum lady, parakeet and cat all disappear from sight, forever. The moment is over.
The city rushes by my window once more and I'm suddenly pulled into in a song that jumps out from the radio. As I begin to sing I can't help but wonder if someone is watching the man in the grey car, lost in the music, smiling and singing.

Changing flights

We stop walking and I plop the bags down at my feet. The goodbye. Surrounded by travellers and trolleys, the airport continues to buzz around us. It only feels like yesterday that I was walking out of this terminal into the warm evening air of São Paulo for the first time. Everything was new and exciting. Now it feels like home. I hate goodbyes the most. And so, with my wall up and a smile on my face, I give my friend a tight hug and thank her for a wonderful three months in her crazy city. Pushing back a tear I tell her I love her, that I will be back soon, and turn to walk through security. I don't look back.
38,000ft. high above the Atlantic Ocean once again, I watch the remaining rays of evening sun burn out over the wing and slowly disappear beneath the horizon. It's that moment when I know there is only a few seconds of light left before another day comes to a close. The other passengers are settled in for the night. Some are already covered in blankets, others shuffling pages of a magazine. But I am looking out across the sky. Constellations begin to come into focus through my frozen window, and once again I am lost in the night. High above the earth, invisible to everyone below.
Despite stories from loved ones, the city embraced me and kept me safe in her arms the entire time. And as the opening credits of a movie begin to fade in and out on the little screen in front of me, I can't help but wonder how this trip has changed me. Every journey in life takes us to a different place. Sometimes the changes are obvious, and others, so subtle that we can't quite put our finger on what is different within us. But whether we like it or not, change is inevitable. And once we embrace that, we become free of the past to live in the moment; free to sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight.

Santa in the sun

As I slip on my new favourite blue and white Havaianas, I grab my sunglasses and head out the door. It is another glorious day with not a cloud in the sky. An air-conditioned Metro train provides me with a brief, refreshing respite from the burning sun shining just above the surface. Back out onto the bustling street once more, a giant Santa Clause defiantly wears his warm woolly clothes and smiles through the heat. I see trees covered in baubles, penguins carrying presents and elaborate nativity scenes being played out, all in the Brazilian midday sun.
And that's when it hits me: I am 5,899 miles away from gloves and scarves, mince pies and mulled wine, ice-skates and log fires. A momentary pang of missing home wrings in my stomach and leaves behind a feeling that I just can't shake.
And then it suddenly occurs to me that a huge number of people in this wonderfully crazy city might not have ever seen snow before. I smile as I watch a snowball hurtling through my mind and go crashing into a happy snowman.
Shopping done, I trade in a mulled wine for a Caipirinha and sit watching the world go by. Our beautiful blue planet is home to over 7 billion people, all with different life experiences. But despite our differences, we all have the same beating hearts, hopes and fears.
And that's what makes us family.



As 2013 comes slowly to a close, I want to thank you for following my blog every week and being part of the journey. You add colour to my life and inspire me in ways you don’t know. I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, and hope that 2014 brings you health and happiness!

With love!

The people in the picture

The afternoon sun is scorching. With barely a cloud in the sky, the only respite from the searing heat comes from an odd gust of breeze that randomly circles around the square and disappears just as quickly. 

And there he stands; brush in hand, bold of stroke. Framed either side by a row of majestic palms, I stand mesmerised by his poetry. The colours are bright and the paint, thick. He seems oblivious to everyone who dances in and out of his periphery. The only thing that exists is the Catedral da Sé in front of him. It captured his imagination and is now being brought to life through the canvas. They have a connection that I will never have. He switches brushes. I watch as he coats the hair in yellow and continues on, adding more detail to his creation. Passers-by stop momentarily to watch. And then I suddenly notice the people in the painting, frozen in a moment. I wonder where the man in the red top is now. And the child in the buggy. And the woman in yellow. Did she make her way up the stone steps into the cathedral, or did she disappear down into the Metro and is now standing on a crowded train homeward-bound? 

As I eventually say goodbye to the man and his canvas, a thought occurs to me: we encounter so many people on the journey through life, our paths cross for only a second. Sometimes we share words, sometimes just a glance. But regardless of whether people live inside a painting or in our heart, everyone has a story to tell, and underneath it all, we are family.

Early hours of a new day

As cool rain beats down outside my window and splashes onto the empty pavement below, I open my eyes. It is still dark. Reaching out towards the wooden bedside table, I find my phone and gently press the home button. The screen jumps to life with a brightness that stings, and I watch as time flips from 00:59 to 01:00. The phone dims, and once again I am in darkness with just the sound of the downpour to keep me company. There is something deeply comforting about the noise filling the sleepy room. 

A memory of sitting in my dad's brick conservatory listening to the rain beat down onto the roof comes and goes, leaving me with a longing to see him.
I notice a small beam of street light spilling in through the shutters and have a sudden urge to see the city in the rain. And so I step sleepily out of bed and walk over to the window. As soon as I pop my head out into the night air my senses are awakened as Brazilian rain finds its way onto my face; it feels cool and fresh and lovely. 
I glance out over the sleeping houses and glistening trees, I think about the past few months and the thousands of miles I've travelled, physically and emotionally...
And as my eyes begin to feel heavy once more, I can't help but wonder what else there is out there to experience...

Sun and Samba

I'm up on the 11th floor looking down. The buzz of the city wafts up on currents of warm Brazilian air and carries with it bouncing Samba beats from musicians at a private party somewhere down below.

Today I spotted my first wild Parakeet. Flapping gracefully past the lush foliage, its beautiful bright green wings seemed to glint in the early evening sun.

And today I had my first Caipirinha. The lime infused cocktail that made my taste buds explode and awakened my senses, left me with just the right amount of afternoon sleepiness as we stepped out of the bar and into the sun.

The streets of London seem a million miles away now. I crossed over the Western Sahara and the Atlantic Ocean just to be here. And now that I am, the world suddenly seems a few degrees brighter than it did just a few short days ago.

The sun that I love so much beats gently down onto my body as it gratefully laps up every last ray. A sudden wave of happiness rushes over me as I realise that I'm right where I'm meant to be.

They say that home is where the heart is, and as I think about all the people in my life that I love so very dearly, I realise that no matter where I go, and whatever I do, I will always carry them around with me in my heart, never leaving, nested inside my travelling home.

Boxed up

In just over two weeks I will be up in the air again. Flying high above the Atlantic Ocean. A stranger will be sleeping in my bed. She will have no idea of the dreams that came to me in the small hours.
I will no longer be seen sitting outside on a Saturday morning, steaming coffee in hand, writing, and watching the Geese fly by. No more leaning-over-the-railings chats with my friendly neighbours. I will never get to see the opening of the giant school that popped up and suddenly blocked my view of Canary Wharf. Memories of walking home in the dark from the Closing Ceremony that beautiful summer will never leave me - A spectacle that burnt it's way into my heart forever.
I watched the communal lawn being cut short, only to be covered in a blanket of crisp white snow a few weeks later.
Loved ones entered my home to dance and talk and drink and laugh and cry and eat and read and sleep. Every wall, a witness to a chapter of life.
I ran along the canal and pulled a muscle. I cooked Sunday brunch and burnt my finger. I woke up sleepy in the early hours of a morning and stubbed my toe on the way to the bathroom. All these things make up a collection of memories that I will never forget.
And as I seal up the final box with brown packing tape, I can't help but wonder what lies in store 5,885 miles away...

The change

The air is chilly. Something has changed. There were no fireworks, no announcements...just a simple glance downwards to spot the lone golden leaf adorning the evening pavement.
Trees will soon be bare and sunsets will arrive just that little bit earlier. And so comes the change.
The carefully packed boxes in my lounge suddenly make me realise that in two weeks, I will no longer be here - here in this flat, looking out over towards the glistening canal.
I will be gone.
As I watch summer skip merrily away for another year, I can't help but wonder what this new season will bring. Who will I be when the snow starts to fall?
A cold breeze whistles across my body and makes it shudder. Then as I zip up my hoodie, I look over towards the water. It is still flowing gently like it did the day before.
Then I realise something: As much as change can be scary, we have no choice but to embrace it. Whether we like it or not, everything on our beautiful planet changes every single day. It's meant to be that way. Every sunrise and season brings with it new opportunities; a chance to smile, to dance, to grow.
The cold pulls me out of my thoughts and I head inside. I lock the door, close my blinds, and turn on the lamp. The room is instantly bathed in a warm glow...and suddenly everything changes.

Gone fishing

I didn't know if it was the beer, the blazing sun, or a combination of the two, but I suddenly felt sleepy out on the river bank. It was nice to be away from the city for a few days, and for the first time in ages, I felt my mind soften around the edges.
As I finished the last of my drink, my friend turned to ask if I fancied doing a spot of fishing...A smile crept across my face as I found myself out on the deck of their narrow boat. After a quick lesson in the basics, my friend hopped back onto solid ground...and there I stood, alone in my thoughts, looking out across the river. The peacefulness of that moment was beautiful!
It didn't last long!
I watched the lure fly gracefully out across the water to land with a gentle splash once again...Then I felt my line pull...hard. The rod began to bend, and for a moment, I wondered if I had managed to get it caught again on some weed at the bottom. Within a few seconds, to my absolute horror, I pulled the line out of the water and found myself staring at a thrashing 25lb pike!
With that, I screamed, my friends came running, and passers-by stopped to see what was causing such a commotion. And so the battle to release the giant began...
The mere sight of its razor-sharp teeth coming towards me was enough to have me climbing up the railing away from it.
After what seemed like an age of twisting and struggling, I watched my friend bend down to place him back into the water from whence he came. He was finally home. Safe. Free.
Then as I looked down through the ripples, laughing with relief, I realised something: In life, there will always be challenges. Things happen unexpectedly to take us on a different journey. Sometimes we find ourselves in an unimagined future where we don't always get what we want...but occasionally, get just what we need.
And that night, as I looked out of the car window into the starry sky, I couldn't help but smile. This would forever be the day that I wrestled with a river monster, and won!

Rainy Tuesday

Tuesday evening rain splashes down onto cold pavement. It has been like this all day and looks set to carry on into the night. 
As the door to my office clicks shut behind me, I breathe deeply and watch my umbrella pop open...and so begins the commute home towards drawn blinds, soft lighting and a comfy sofa. 
I love these moments! Music pulsing through headphones down into my ears, I join the strangers on the street, and walk. I can't remember the last time I didn't feel at home here. Nights of feeling alone and scared in a big city seem like a lifetime ago. 
As I approach the corner to cross, I notice a massive, muddy puddle spilling out from the kerb into the road. I know this corner, and I see what's coming...As I take a step back away from the edge, people around me suddenly understand my movement and follow me in quick succession. We share a knowing smile with each other just as the bus trundles past and splashes the puddle up and out. 
Moments of random connection remind me that we are all related. 
And so I continue on towards the tube. I know that it will be packed down there this evening. A wave of peace washes over me in anticipation of the warm cocoon that awaits. I can get lost in the crowd once again and feel the mass of beating hearts. 
We see so many people every day on our journey, some familiar, some not. Sometimes paths cross to turn into something more meaningful, and sometimes, one glance is all we ever have. 
And as I begin my descent to the ticket hall, I can't help but wonder where all these strangers are off to tonight - strangers with their dripping umbrellas and soaked newspapers.

The final burst

The final rays of golden sun shine directly onto my face; it is too bright to see anything in front of me. And so, blinded by the light, I close my eyes and feel the warmth gently embrace my entire body. 
I love evening sunsets; everything slowly winding down for another day. Lost in thought, I suddenly feel a slight drop in temperature as the sun is momentarily hidden behind a passing cloud, giving me space to open my eyes once again. It takes a second for them to adjust. Light reflects off the river and bounces out across the city. Sitting on my concrete ledge, I watch as one by one, people pass me and lean against the barrier above the sun-sparkled water. Everything seems to slow right down as we all join together to watch the last of the day's sun give one brilliant final burst across the city. Towers glint in the distance and water is sprayed up by a passing catamaran. And on we gaze, all connected in the moment. Still. Grateful. At peace.
My attention is drawn down towards a tiny boy who runs past me into his daddy's arms. As they both chuckle to each other, I get a fleeting glimpse of my own son. If I had one, we would sit out here together and watch the sun go down over the horizon with Cutty Sark resting majestically behind us. 
It will soon be time for me to get up and meet my friends in the restaurant...
But for now, I'm smiling at this gift of spending a little time on my own. Time to just be. To breathe. To love. To smile. And sweep back my wind-ruffled hair.

Morning chatter

Sunday morning, and a chorus of Wood Pigeons call in the distance. It is the first thing I hear as I wake. Still dozy from sleep, I listen as one repeats the same three notes over, and over again. Then another joins in, this time with five. It is all I hear until they suddenly stop. Stillness. 
Then in the silence, I yawn. My tummy rumbles. And the pigeons return. Then a Crow. Then a Sparrow. Then something else I can't identify: a strange, deep squawk. It was definitely a bird of sorts, but not one that I have heard before. Or maybe it was a child. 
As I listen on to the orchestra of sounds, my mind suddenly skips back to another time: London Zoo, a light drizzle falling onto my face as I stood listening to the Peacocks. Trying hard to mimic their call, I began repeating back exactly what I heard, subtly adjusting the quality of my sound each time until eventually we merged and became one. I smile at the memory of seeing the rest of my drama school friends all doing the same thing. The next day we would find ourselves back together in class, all laughing at the strange looks we received from the rest of the visitors around us, before making the room come alive once again with lions, and tigers, and Peacocks, oh my! 
I chuckle at the seeming randomness of life...
And as the birds continue to chatter outside my window, in between the squawking and singing, I begin to drift off once again into a deep morning sleep.

Homeward bound

As the train speeds through the tunnel, music floats into my ears. Scenes from earlier splash into my mind and begin to overlap: My friend's sweet little boy roaring like a monster, her lovely twin daughters randomly discussing Hula Hoops, us reminiscing about days gone by, and the rain that began to fall lightly over our picnic, making us pack up and call it a day...

Then I suddenly remember the old man playing a piano in the main concourse of St Pancras station just moments before we said goodbye. We stood there transfixed, watching him lost in his music, us getting lost in him.

My reverie speeds up time, and before I know it, I am standing on the wet evening platform once again, close to home. I watch the train disappear into the distance and suddenly realise that there is no one else around. I feel the light drizzle on my face and stand looking up into a darkening sky. Right at this moment, my friend and her family are speeding out of the city, whilst the piano man is settled in his seat, dozing peacefully as his train sways onwards.

And as I walk down the length of the platform towards the stairs, a thought occurs to me: even if I had wanted to, with all the will in the world, I couldn't have orchestrated this exact evening: The piano man, the picnic in the rain, the moments we laughed; all set against a dark blue, late August sky.

And all it takes is a second...a second to stop, a moment to realise, that we have so much more to be grateful for than we will ever know.

Just visiting

I used to think I had just one pace in this city when I first arrived...Two decades later, I've discovered another. There are times in our life when all we can do is let go and allow the current to take us where it will. With nowhere else to get to for at least another hour, I slow my stride and begin to melt into the swarm of strangers. In between shoulder bags and cameras and shorts and smiles, I snatch glimpses of a city I love, foreign to my crowd, familiar to me. Big Ben glints in the early evening sunset behind red buses, black cabs, and bicycles.
I stop sporadically as tourists in front of me pose wearily against a sunset skyline; a long day of walking and exploring finally taking its toll. I watch as they soak everything in. It will soon be time for them to head back to their hotel to shower and change before heading out again for dinner.
Once across the river, I find myself retreating to the park opposite Westminster. This is my favourite part of killing time...I love people watching. The blonde-haired girl cartwheels freely across the grass and heads towards the Japanese couple freezing for a picture with their fingers held playfully in a peace sign - I love this pose. Maybe deep down, that's all the majority of us want for the planet anyway. There are kids playing around the bronze statue now, and I chuckle to myself as they hold onto the giant finger to dance with it. Their laughter rings out across the grass, becoming part of the city soundtrack.
A Union Jack blows gently in the breeze high upon a rooftop.
Suddenly a bee buzzes sleepily past and I follow its journey around behind me. I realise that I've been sitting right in front of a wall of lavender this whole time. And so I reach behind to squeeze a piece of it in between my fingers. The scent fills my nostrils and floods me with happiness...
Tonight, I am right where I'm meant to be.

Connected

I love this time of day. The bustling city is changing gears to another pace. Final splashes of golden sun illuminate the grass below and cast shadows across the lawn as I sit looking out. Within a few short minutes, day will become night once more. I watch the last rays of evening light gently cover the city in its golden blanket, and even though there is still a pale blue sky, the street lamps have already come on to see us through the small hours.
Today I saw a picture of the earth taken from beneath Saturn’s rings. And today I saw a picture of a train wreck...I will go to sleep this night, a different person.
As I look down towards my hands, I suddenly notice the orange stains from the dead lilies that I placed into the bin earlier. An image of the child presenting the bouquet to me last week flashes through my mind, making me smile; gestures of kindness and gratitude that will never be forgotten.
I read somewhere that London was hotter than Bali! These warm summer days quickly give way to cool nights, and as a chill blows across my skin, I realise that the shadows are no more; we have spun away from the sun.
I am contemplating going inside for a hot Green tea when a thought occurs to me: In this moment, everything is happening; someone is laughing, and someone is crying; someone is arriving, and someone is dying. With 7.1 billion of us all sharing this planet, we are connected in ways we don't even know; variations of a theme with beating hearts and hopes and fears. We are family.
And as I make my way inside to put the kettle on, I know I'm not the only one.

Itchy feet

Early morning sun bathes my entire body in its warm light...there's not a cloud in the sky. As I look up, my mind suddenly jumps into the cool pool in Switzerland that I used to lie by. The summers were long, and hot, and filled with love. The flash is instant, fleeting.
I watch as steam curls upwards out of my mug and disappears into the sky. The smell of cut grass blowing in the breeze instantly makes me close my eyes and breathe deeply. I love this smell!
My attention is drawn upwards by the sound of a helicopter flying overhead. Instantly I'm speeding through the air at 150mph, looking out once more across the Grand Canyon.
Alone in my thoughts, my mind continues to skip back and forth over all the places I've ever lived and been. Then a thought occurs to me. I suddenly wonder if my mum had once had dreams of standing on cool Italian marble, or warm Thai sand, on a bustling New York sidewalk or manicured grass in a Berlin Tiergarten. With this thought, a wave of urgency splashes over me as I wonder if there is enough time in the world to do everything I want to do. A Canada goose flies majestically along the canal and pulls me suddenly out of my reverie.
My feet are itching, ready for the next excellent adventure.
Sometimes in life, there are things that compel us forward, and things that hold us back. Whether it is love or fear that eventually drives us to another place, sometimes we just need to step out of our comfort zone to really discover where our happiness lies.

Step by step

Trainers laced, muscles stretched, I step out into the morning and hit the play button. The beat kicks in and I am off. Snaking my way down towards the canal, a light morning drizzle covers my face. Every stride forward lifts me further out of my sleepiness. I eventually settle into a comfortable pace as the path in front rolls towards my moving feet. I have really been enjoying these early morning runs of late, and despite this only being the third time in my new resolution, I am finding every step just that little bit easier, that little bit faster. A wave of contentment splashes over me as I breathe deeply. Endorphins rush in with a pumping new tune and I decide to speed up my run for a quick burst.
I want to go faster and further.
And just as the song hits the chorus, I accelerate. For a split second it feels as if I am lifting off the ground...and that's when it happens: the sudden searing pain in my left calf.
In less than three seconds, I find myself leaning against a tree with frustration and disappointment crashing heavily into me. How could this have happened? It was game over!
Taking a deep breath, I begin the long journey home, drizzle continuing to fall over my limping body.
And then I realise something...
Sometimes in life, change can take a while. It doesn't always play out like a cleverly cut montage in a movie, and as frustrating as it is, we can't rush the process. The journey is beautiful, and with just one perfectly small step, we take that giant leap right into our future.