Well hallo! I have, as you may realise, been awol for a time on two very different holidays, both set in place with purpose in mind. I had become reclusive, my confidence shot and with a strong need to hide at home. I understood the feelings, owned them as an integral part of grieving. I gave myself two years which felt like a big chunk of life at the outset, an empty swathe of minutes, hours, days and uncomfortable months during which I determined to heal. Gradually I progressed from distractive actions, sweeping the floor being my only achievement for one long and empty day, into the dance I now live as a completely new woman. Now I can sweep all the floors before breakfast or not at all if the very thought sets my eyes a-rolling. I have choices now and I like choices whereas they scared me not so long ago.

So, off I pop, over on the ferry and onto the bus for Glasgow airport. Prior to boarding said bus I met a smiley woman in the waiting zone (used to be called a bus shelter) who proffered a cheery ‘Ola’. Ola, I smiled back. Espagnol? Si, she said and then walloped into at least 3 paragraphs of Spanish chat. I indicated that I spoke almost no Spanish as she spoke almost no English. Nonetheless we managed a lively exchange of words, employing much theatre. I discovered she was moving home to Madrid and she discovered I was heading for Mallorca to visit one of my sons. She asked, in Spanish, how many ‘Ninos’ I had. I proudly announced that I had ‘cinquecento’. Her eyes grew wide along with her smile and she punched the air. I was obviously quite remarkable, not least because ‘cinquecento’ means 500. As we boarded the bus, she indicated that I had left my suitcase, mobile phone and purse on the pavement. I had done the same outside the island booking office and on the ferry which might have wobbled me had I not an innate sense of fun plus an excellent and random support team to keep me connected to my luggage. I realise these helpful folk were watching me and probably clocking that I was, at best, bonkers, at worst mildly dangerous. I made a note to keep a close eye on both myself and my luggage thereafter.

The journey was easy and pleasant and the welcome delightful. A week in the sunshine with family, in and out of the sea, up and down on school runs, garden games and a lot of happy chatter has left me with the warmest of memories. Sun hot on my back, the blue sky, warm sea and skittering children, the taste of salt on my skin, all so uplifting. Home again, complete with luggage, and I had two days to turn around before the next adventure, a 6 night cruise from Oban to Inverness through the Caledonian Canal with another son as captain. Very different frock assemblages required plus socks and a beanie and boots and leggings for the crispy autumn chill which I would obviously feel more sharply after the 32 degree heat of late. It was a wonderful time. http://www.hebridescruises.co.uk provide an exceptional standard of comfort and luxury. The crew are tight knit, full of fun and chuckles whilst working very hard to make sure every detail is attended to. Needless to say I became the clown on board. It is my gift to give, my love of people and my greatest pleasure is to make everyone smile and laugh. We were a happy team, adventuring on shore for guided walks, sharing the hot tub late in the afternoon with a glass of Prosecco, dining on exquisite meals, sharing stories and experiences and little glimpses into our ordinary lives.

And now I am home again, refuelled, renewed, ready for anything, even the irritating things, the sad times, the moments of deflation, the days of rain, the season turning into a taste of winter. Funny how stepping out, getting away and hearing other stories of other and very different lives can change perception, even a whole outlook on life. I know now that I can travel solo and return solo. I know that my home will still be here, my little dog happy and loved, my opportunities for adventure just waiting to be noticed and brought into the light of a new life. I am changed by change, by the experiences, the people, their voices, smiles, eye light and stories. I will remember it all, them all, catching a single moment in my mind, something said, something gifted, perhaps something sad or sore, and I will know that each time I step out and away, no matter where or when, I will return with my luggage, yes, hopefully, but with much more and none of the latter weighs a damn thing, yet it is more precious than anything I ever bought or owned. These encounters are free. These encounters are with people and people are the only ones who can touch a heart. In fact, had I succeeded in leaving my luggage on some random pavement, I would have laughed, probably out loud, because the adventure would still have lifted me high above myself, my worries and frustrations, my grieving boo-hoos, returning me home lighter and brighter and all because of people.

In short, nothing else matters.