This month I’m not writing about a place I have travelled to, rather a different kind of journey. For the past 4+ I have been writing a memoir of my early life. I’m not writing it because I am famous or a narcissist as I’m neither of those. Why then? Because those years shape us by creating our patterns of thinking which in turn affects our behaviour and each year, adds a layer.
Please bear with me as I set the stage for this blog.
In the early 1980’s, I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar at night whilst studying marketing and business administration during the day. The venue was called Richards on Richards and was arguably the hottest nightclub in Vancouver.
Our 4th and final trip to Italy this year was to attend the Ryder Cup in Roma and watching the greatest golfers in Europe and the USA did not disappoint! And I said, ‘this year’ because I will return to Italy time and again. Quite simply, I love this country!
The beginning of September took me to London, a city I’ve travelled to many times, possibly hundreds of times and lived there for a short while. When I moved to Notting Hill some 17+ years ago, I never thought I would leave after only five months. Astonishing how a marriage proposal can change the trajectory of our lives.
This past July took my husband and I to Lucca, Italy for something that has been on my bucket list for some time and that was to see a performance of Andrea Bocelli.
This year is full of Italian delights. Yippee! June took my husband and I to wonderful Piemonte (Piedmont) in northwest Italy, our second of four trips to Italy this year. A region we had never been to before.
One of the best things about living in Jersey is being so close to London’s airports that it is easy to travel within the UK and to Europe. Both are so rife with history, amazing architecture, intriguing people, delicious food and steeped in culture. This is the stuff that makes my heart sing.
I’m Back… It’s a joy to be blogging again. Thank you for reading!
In the past few years, I have had health issues resulting in some rather bazaar symptoms. I’ll spare you the unpleasant nitty gritty. The pinnacle of my unwellness was last December when on a ski trip to Whistler, I fell ill with bronchitis. I lay in bed, exhausted while my family skied. I never made it to the slopes.
The vibrant woman I once was fell away into a puddle of symptoms. It was as though my immune system had gone insane. Soul destroying stuff.