Somewhere in amongst doing the research for my final year project at uni in an international school in Marbella, I managed to seek away to Seville for a weekend.There’s nothing quite like sipping a glass of red wine watching the world wake up as night falls after the warm winter sun has dipped behind the Arabic inspired architecture.Welcome to a perfect winter escape.
My baby brother turned 20 at the beginning of May.That makes me feel seriously old. 20 whole years.He was born in 2000, the only way I remember how old he is or is going to be!Unfortunately for him his birthday fell in the middle of the present lockdown in the UK.So when he really wanted to be celebrating with friends at uni, he was chilling with his family in the sunshine.
I’ve already shared these photos on my instagram, but I thought I’d give you a little more background to the recipe.Just incase you were bored enough to get this far!!
So this isn’t exactly how I expected to be finishing my final year at university.Today I was supposed to be sitting an exam. This weekend I was supposed to be flying to Greece for four months where I’d be working as a childcare practitioner.I was going to have a party this year,I graduate, turn 25 and was going to do exciting things – those things seemed like something to celebrate.
Maybe pretty isn’t the right word.What about: when do you feel most beautiful? Most empowered? Sexiest?
It’s a question I asked myself after watching the rom-com “I feel pretty”. It’s a very predictable plot line and I’m not going to bore you with the details, if you want, you can watch it for yourself on Netflix.But the essential message is, you’re already beautiful, strong and sexy.You just have to have the confidence to see that beauty for yourself.But it got me thinking, so when is it I feel most beautiful?
She’s in the cool autumn breeze. She is the world illuminating sun and the blue of the sky is the reflection of her eyes. She’s in the life that bursts from the fields, allowing others to grow.
Their smiling faces come to say hello. The word haunt feels inappropriate, because that’s not how it feels. Their winds caress my body, saying “it’s okay to be sad, but don’t stay there Mrs. It’s okay to be angry, but not forever.”
They say, “This life is to be live, so live it well for those who have left.”
And that’s where they all are, the souls and spirits of those we love. They’ve returned to nature. Energy absorbed. And somewhere, new life will be born with their wit, their joy, their zest for life. And for those who came into contact with them will know they are truly blessed to spend time with these beautiful souls.
That’s not to say it doesn’t hurt that they’ve gone. It doesn’t mean to say I’m okay with it. It’s not to say that I don’t wish they were still here in human form. But I mean to say I don’t believe they ever really leave us. I will continue to find those we’ve lost in the hazy summer days, in the biting winds of winter and the flowers blooming in spring, they’ll always be there reminding me to live. In the fullest sense of the word.
Recently I have had some lovey jubbly people to stay and been on several adventures with my own beloved family as well. However, these explorations have led to come up with a few tips for ever going anywhere with any member of my family. A few do’s and don’ts you could say.
As I age my relationship with the land changes. Whilst I have always believed the land is for playing in and the outdoors is best, I am slowly becoming more open to land being for everyone. I’ll admit it I’m getting better at sharing.
Two words. Wild Camping. An activity which fills my cup up, reminds me of my appreciation for quietness (a surprise to all) and that the best sleep is always had under canvas. It’s been a while since I took my little green tent up a hill for an nighttime adventure. But due to good weather, a very special visitor and my mum having the day after off work we took the opportunity for a little getaway with gusto.
At the grand old age of 22 I have finally come to terms with the fact I am not actually fat. I have believed that I am fat, and for a brief while obese, for as long as I can remember. It probably has something to do with the fact that I come from an exercise obsessed family who are borderline addicted. Actually, are addicted to whatever their chosen sport is.