Yorkshire Girl's Midlife Diary

OK, here I am to tell you about my recent day trip to the very lovely Segovia. I swear by the time I tell you about Salamanca and Toledo it will be Christmas and I’ll have been to numerous other places by then which I’ll want to share. I have just been so very, very busy. Both at work, at home, with my offspring, catching up with friends, various bits of DIY at home……………………….but here I am now with a quiet hour to share Segovia with you.

Is it worth taking a day out of a trip to Madrid to go there? Yes! And what’s even better is it can be seen very easily in a day. It takes just 27 minutes on the fast train from Madrid Chamartín/Clara Campoamor station. You can also get there on the bus, but I love the trains in Spain. In the UK, I only ever really take the train when I have to, as they are overpriced, usually late, unreliable and often cancelled. I went to Bristol the other week to see one of my children and it cost me £100 return, broke down at Birmingham on the way there, resulting in a change of train and the return train was cancelled. I have travelled extensively in Spain and Italy by train and their rail systems are far, far superior to that in the UK so don’t be nervous about relying on it, it’s excellent and cheap.

The easiest way to get to Madrid Chamartín/Clara Campoamor from the centre of Madrid is to use the Metro, as Chamartín is north of the city centre. Just make sure you get on the Metro going in the correct direction! 😂 Being a bit of a smalltown girl, I can find Metro systems quite confusing, and this is the day I found myself hurtling the wrong way on the Metro. 🤭 If that happens, just jump off at the next stop and reverse direction!

When you get to Segovia there are usually a couple of buses waiting at the station to ferry you to the town because the station at Segovia Guiomar is out of the city centre and a bit too far to walk. It only takes around 10 minutes and you can get one of two buses, one to the town centre or one straight to Segovia’s most famous site, the Roman Aqueduct.

I got on the one to the town as I needed breakfast, but you could get on either, as Segovia is really nice and compact to walk around and it is only around 15 minutes walk from one end of town to the other. First stop was a nice little café for a pastry and a café con leche to fuel me for the morning, and then a steady stroll to the aqueduct.

Directly at the side of the aqueduct is the Tourist Information office. They are really helpful and if you visit Segovia I recommend you go. They give you a free map and will draw you a walking route around town on the map, so you can see all the main sites in the day without missing anything.

So what’s special about Segovia? Well, it’s so special it was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1985. It is considered one of the most beautiful cities in the world in terms of its architectural configuration. It is a Roman walled city, and perhaps its most important site is its Roman aqueduct. You can’t possibly miss it, it’s huge! It is a masterpiece of hydraulic engineering, built to provide Segovia with water and has 167 arches. It is made of huge granite slabs, but what is even more impressive architecturally, is that it is completely self supporting, there is no mortar involved, just the laws of physics! Impressive stuff. A few photographs and a walk around the aqueduct and off I disappeared into the old town, ready to explore, armed with my map.

It was the worst day of the week weather wise. It rained all day so the photos don’t really do Segovia justice, but the town, being quite small, has a really nice friendly feel to it. It’s a lovely little escape from the hustle and bustle of Madrid.

My first stop in the old town was the ‘Casa de los Picos’, or ‘House of the Peaks’. Quite a quirky building to look at from an architectural perspective. Named ‘House of the Peaks’ due to the many diamond shaped peaks on the exterior, which apparently had both defensive and ornamental function back in the day.

Keep walking up the street and you will pass Saint Martin Church and eventually arrive at the central point in the old town, the Plaza Major. It’s quite a plain square compared to Madrid and others but lovely nevertheless. It was a good, covered, people watching spot for the second coffee of the day whilst I considered my next move.

It was raining quite heavily by now so I decided to walk to the far end of the town to visit the Alcázar. You can find an Alcázar in quite a number of Spanish cities like Seville, Cordoba, Toledo and a few more. An Alcázar is a type of Islamic castle or palace built during Muslim rule. Having been to those in Seville and Cordoba I thought I’d visit the one in Segovia as it is supposed to be the most famous. From the outside it looks a little bit like the Disney Castle. Just before you go inside though, be sure to have a look at the top of the trees outside at the storks roosting amongst the branches. You’ll likely hear them before you see them as they clack their bills together during courtship and it’s really loud.

The first thing I noticed about the outside of the Alcázar was a really unusual and pretty pattern on the outside walls. Each intersection of the stonework is studded with volcanic rock in the mortar. It makes for a really pretty effect.

Inside, the Alcázar is just as impressive. There are old Arabic tiles, beautiful stained glass windows, ornate gold ceilings and lots of artwork, including one painting of the coronation of Queen Isabella of Spain. She was crowned at the Alcázar of Segovia. It’s worth climbing up into one of the towers to see the artillery room and admire the view over the river and town and across the flat plains around the town.

After I had spent a couple of hours in the Alcázar I was ready for my lunch, but not before a little surprise! I’m on the Camino again! 😁 I get so excited when I see a little shell on the pavement, I just want to follow it. If you know, you just know! It transpires that Segovia is on the The Camino de Madrid which goes northwards from Madrid, through Segovia, then on to Valladoid, joining the Camino Francés at Sahagún.

The food you have to try in Segovia is roast suckling pig. A quick search showed I was not too far away from a lovely little restaurant called El Sitio in the old town. It is very well known for this dish and it is a traditional Spanish restaurant which will give you a really authentic experience.

It was a Tuesday lunchtime and it was heaving with people and I had not booked. I looked a bit out of place as I was on my own and was quite obviously the ‘tourist’. I had to use my very best Spanish and my biggest smile to try and explain that I wanted a table for one, I had not booked but really wanted to try the suckling pig. They just managed to squeeze me in and were so lovely, recommending what I should try if I wanted to sample local cuisine. Go check them out if you are in Segovia, it’s an amazing little place.

To start they recommended Sopa Castellana (Castillian Soup). I have no idea what was in it but it was nice. The only thing I was not sure about was the barely cooked egg floating around in it as I’m a bit funny about runny eggs. But sometimes you just have to try these things and I liked it lots. It was like a garlicky, savoury broth with all bits of meat and bread and an egg floating in it. It tasted so much better than I’m making it sound.

Then came the meal I had been waiting for, roast suckling pig (vegetarians look away now). It was plonked in front of me and I was delighted to see it waving at me, yes, complete with little trotter, how cute! And it was so very good! The most delicious, juicy, sweet pork with a lovely crispy skin. I can cope with the trotter no problem, I might struggle a little bit if I got the smiling version!

And of course it would be rude not to squeeze a little dessert in. Nothing elaborate but one of my favourites when in Spain. I am a great lover of custard! All desserts should come with custard! I can eat custard on its own, and the good thing is in Spain you can! Natillas is a traditional Spanish dessert and is quite simply a cold chilled custard flavoured with vanilla and cinnamon, served with a plain vanilla Maria biscuit. The perfect ending to my lovely lunch.

After lunch I went to discover the cathedral. It’s a very pretty one and the highest point in the town. It is late gothic in style, with some huge vaulted ceilings. There is lots of gold, a beautiful organ, some lovely stained glass and a very pretty cloister. It is a lovely cathedral to visit and I was lucky enough to be wandering around while the organist was having a practice so I had some lovely music to accompany my visit. The acoustics were fantastic and I really wanted to put a request in for a rendition of my favourite Widor’s Toccata but thought I might be pushing my luck because it’s quite a big ask!

I was running out of time on my little day trip and I soon had to go for my return train. I just had time to have a wander through the old Jewish quarter of Segovia. At its peak this area housed five synagogues and was one of the richest and most populated communities in the whole of Castille. It is a neighbourhood of Segovia which was traditionally populated by the Hebrew community from the 12th century until the late 15th century, after which the Catholic monarchs promulgated the Edict of Granada which said that all Jews had to convert to Christianity or leave Spain. It’s a pretty little area which will transport you back in time. It is a worthwhile window into history, and another timely reminder of how religion can drive us apart if we don’t respect each others beliefs, or each others decision to not have a belief, sadly a lesson we appear to be no nearer to learning six centuries later.

That was all I managed in my short day trip to Segovia. I would definitely recommend it as a day trip. It’s nice, small and compact and has a really nice feel to it. It’s easy to get to and you can quite comfortably see all the main sites in one day. It gets a big thumbs up from me.

Next up Salamanca…………but it could take me a week or two as countdown has begun…………… 19 days from the marathon and I’m meeting myself coming backwards in addition to having bright pink and black tape stuck all over my lower back by the physio in an attempt to hold me together! 😂 I honestly do think I might fall apart if it is peeled off, but he told me with great delight that he chose pink and black tape to match my trainers, how thoughtful, that’s service with a smile for you! 😁 Today though, is the day I fell in love with Strava. Normally I don’t get on with it as I’m not really interested how fast or far I’ve gone. I’m usually just relieved to have finished each run and think the mapping would be far more useful if it told you where all the cake stops were en-route. 😆 However, today it told me I am ‘Superior’! My VO2 max (which I’ve no idea what that is but it sounds impressive!) is in the top 5% for my age and gender. But wait for it!!!!!!! My fitness age is 20 years old!!!!! Oh gosh………….I LOVE Strava now!

Tonight though is a lovely trip to see possibly my favourite Opera……….Carmen………where I shall indulge in a few treats that probably don’t sit well with my training plan and I will try so desperately hard not to sing along to the Habenera and spoil the performance for everyone else. 😂

Madrid……………you were such fun!

I spent weeks practicing my Spanish before I went but forgot to learn the phrase which would have come in most handy on this trip.

¿Dónde estoy? ¡Estoy perdida!……………………. Where am I? I’m lost! I know how to ask for the location of the bank, the train station, restaurant, hotel…….everything, except where I am. This was the week that saw me hurtling the wrong way on the Metro, inadvertently finding myself in the middle of a Pro-Palestinian protest, and generally getting into all sorts of mischief without even trying. I’ve quite decided I quite like being lost ………..it’s a positive experience because usually, you find the most exciting things when you are just wandering around aimlessly.

I had 7 days to spend in Spain. I managed to fit in the cities of Madrid, Segovia, Toledo and Salamanca. I loved them all, and Madrid perhaps wasn’t my favourite, but I loved it all the same. Today I only have time to tell you about Madrid, but I promise I’ll tell you what I got up to in the other cities in due course.

So Madrid…………what to see, where to stay, what to eat, how to get around………………….here goes.

I was a little overwhelmed on arrival. I got that feeling I get when I go to London because Madrid is similar in that it is huge. The buildings are gigantic, the streets are crammed packed full of people, and there is traffic and noise everywhere. There are various ways of getting from the airport. You can use the metro, take a taxi or get a bus. I took the airport bus, which at 5 Euros was a bargain, and it dropped me off 10 minutes walk from my hotel in probably one of the busiest throughfares in the city, Plaza de Ciebeles. I then had to walk up Madrid’s busiest street, Gran Via, to get to my hotel. First impressions were that I wasn’t sure I was going to like it in Madrid. Being there on my own, it felt a bit too ‘full on’ and busy for me. However, those feelings soon disappeared once I got to my hotel, found the bar and had time to settle, because fortunately not all Madrid is so ‘in your face’…….you can escape……..and what followed were a fantastic few days.

So where did I stay……..fortunately not on the Gran Via! All the hotels seem to sell themselves on being near or on the Gran Via, but it is my idea of a nightmare. Think quantity rather than quality: busy, loud, brash. I might be doing it a dis-service, but it was definitely my least favourite part of Madrid, I really did not like Gran Via. I stayed just off the Gran Via down a quietish street in the area between Malasaña and Chueca. The hotel was fantastic, called the 7 Islas Hotel, I really can’t fault it, and I would return to this hotel again. It is full of lovely artwork, which changes often as the foyer doubles up as an art gallery. The rooms are so clean, fresh and minimalist. The staff are lovely, and it has an amazing cocktail bar menu!! I felt that it was good value for money. It’s in a perfect spot within walking distance of everything, but it feels peaceful as they have some lovely green plants throughout the hotel. It’s like a little peaceful haven in the middle of a metropolis. It was an early night the first night ready for the busy first day, although I did award myself a little lie in and hung my sign on my door to say I did not want molesting in the morning!😂 Not literally, but occasionally translation from Spanish to English and vice versa does make me giggle because sometimes things just aren’t what you think!

Importantly for me, the hotel had a little gym, with treadmill, to maintain my training. The treadmill did look a little bit like the flight deck of a Boeing 737, and my brain only copes with simplicity at present. Too many buttons and flashing lights are dangerous, and I hate treadmill running anyway, but it sufficed……………………once I’d got used to it, after being expelled off the end a few times. It was quite a fancy gym, with cooled iced water with lemon slices floating in it, fluffy towels and floor to ceiling mirrors, which I’ve decided I don’t like………….I have no desire and no need to see what I look like during or after a 10k run on a treadmill.

When I looked into where to stay in Madrid, the internet said that Malasaña and Chueca areas, which are next to each other, were suitable for ‘hipsters and the traditional’. It said they were trendy, had attitude, personality and were the ideal place to stay if you wanted to experience life as a Madrileno (person from Madrid) rather than a tourist. That sounds perfect, I thought……….and I did really like it. It’s also a really interesting and flamboyant area, and some websites describe it as the ‘epicentre of gay Madrid’. And it certainly was! Coming from a small village in the countryside in Yorkshire, I live in a bit of a ‘bubble’. However, I’m very open-minded and love to discover new things and have my eyes opened to the big wide world out there. I spent quite a few happy hours on my bar stool in the hotel cocktail bar window watching the comings and goings from the ‘bar’ opposite. Oh my!!!………….. some of the outfits were outrageously flamboyant, and the makeup was amazing. It was just like being on the set of RuPaul’s Drag Race. It was so much fun! I learnt some new vocabulary, had my eyes opened, and came to the conclusion that 99% of the time, I really do exist completely oblivious to the rest of the world in my little bubble.

Getting around Madrid…….there are various ways. You can use the Metro (underground rail system), take the bus, or they have a bike and scooter scheme like in most major cities. I personally wouldn’t like to think I was traversing Madrid on a bike or scooter. It would be like peddling down the motorway on a children’s tricycle. Metro and bus are both good options and are well priced and efficient. I did both, depending on where I wanted to go.

Now I’ll tell you about all the places I visited. I’ll cover food separately in a minute as that deserves its own write-up. I was in Madrid for three full days and feel that I saw all the main things that I wanted to see. You could easily spend longer seeing some of the lesser known sites, or spending longer in certain places, but anything less than 3 days and you might be a little rushed. There are so many things to see, but here are my highlights.

If you ask me what instantly springs to mind when I think of Spain (in addition to food, which is always at the forefront of my mind) it’s toilet lights that don’t stay on long enough and statues of men on horseback. In Madrid you won’t be disappointed. You’ll find yourself grovelling around in the dark feeling for the loo roll on many an occasion, and there are more horse riding men than you can shake a stick at. I’ve now developed a sort of sit down dance that I do when going to the toilet, it’s sort of a blend between an arm wave and a shoulder shimmy but I find it helps to keep the lights on if you undertake it while peeing. That’s a top tip.

So first stop, Plaza Major. Almost every town and city in Spain has a Plaza Major, and Madrid has a huge one. It’s not the prettiest one I’ve seen on my travels, but it’s most definitely worth a visit and has that all-important man on a horse! This one is King Felipe III.

Then I thought I’d visit the first of the two major art galleries I wanted to look in, the Centro de Arte Reina Sofia. This gallery contains Madrid’s finest collection of contemporary art. It contains pieces from the 19th century right up to the 1980’s by some of Spain’s greatest artists: Picasso, Miro, Dali and many more. Perhaps its most famous work is the original of Picasso’s Guernica, probably one of the most important pieces of artwork of the 20th century. It is much larger than I expected it to be at 3.5m by 7.8m and is a monochrome painting in the cubist style that Picasso became famous for. You could look at just this painting for hours and discover all the small elements of it, and their reason for being there. The museum also contains a number of sketches he did leading up to the painting of the full work, which sheds light on some of his thought processes.

There is quite a lot of Miro in there too. Miro, I can take or leave, some of his work I love and some I just don’t understand. It’s not that I don’t like it, I just can’t seem to get on the same wavelength. If you are ever in Palma, Mallorca, there is a Joan Miro Museum on the outskirts, and I’ve been a couple of times and would recommend a visit. The building itself is a work of modern art. There is another museum dedicated to him in Barcelona on the top of Montjuic, and that’s equally as good. I absolutely love Dali though, and there is a large amount of his work in here. He is probably the greatest surrealist artist of all time. His paintings are almost dreamlike and fantastical, and there are usually a number of ways they can be interpreted. You can look at a painting again and again and see something different in it each time. A lot of his work contains sexual imagery as a result of his anxiety and conflicting views towards sex.

The second art gallery you should visit is the Museo de Prado, undoubtedly one of the greatest art museums in the world. This contains the work of Spanish and European artists going back centuries, so if you like the more traditional style of paintings, rather than the contemporary, then you will prefer this museum. It has whole rooms dedicated to some of its most prolific artists such as Goya, Velazquez, Rubens, El Greco and Titian. I absolutely adored it in this museum and could have spent days there.

My favourite pieces were Bosch ‘The Garden of Earthly Delights’, Velazquez ‘Las Meninas’, Sorolla ‘Boys on the Beach’ and Tintoretto ‘The Washing of the Feet’ – not because of the subject matter, as I’m not particularly religious, but because of his sheer genius in the use of perspective, making the image almost appear in 3D if you view it from the right hand side. I don’t have any pictures of the inside of the museum for you as it is prohibited to take photos in there, and that rule is enforced quite strictly. My tip for the Prado would be to pay extra for the audio guide. The museum is huge and you can’t possibly see it all on one visit or even in one day. I had 3 hours to spend there and the really good thing about the audio guide is that there are a couple of pre-set tours in there for 2, 3 and 4 hours, there may be more, I can’t remember. But if you decide how long you want to spend in there and select that tour, if you follow it, not only will you not get lost, but you will quite efficiently see all the major works that it is possible to see in that time frame. I chose the 3 hour tour, and it was almost spot on in its timing.

I would highly recommend a visit to both these galleries, but buy your tickets online in advance to skip the queues a little because the line to buy tickets was huge at both of them, and that was midweek in February.

Behind the Prado Museum is one of Madrid’s beautiful parks which you must visit – Parque del Buen Retiro. There are lakes, beautifully manicured gardens, the beautiful metal and glass Palacio de Cristal and yes you’ve guessed it……………….various men on various horses, amongst many other beautiful statues. There is also the most exquisite rose garden and I would love to see it and smell it in late spring and summer, I bet it is beautiful.

It was Saturday when I went to the park. The sun was out, and it was a lovely, warm day. The first signs of spring were starting to appear. So most of Madrid had gone to the park too. It had a lovely atmosphere. There are places you can get a drink and an ice cream, and it just seemed such a happy place. I would imagine it is also nice to go and just sit and read your book when it is quieter.

Just outside the park on the way down to the city centre there is a throughfare that is lined with market stalls all selling books, mostly old books but some newer ones too. It’s a bit like a book flea market. I could have spent all afternoon browsing and buying. If you like books, it looked like my idea of heaven.

I wanted to get to the other side of the city and the weather was nice so I thought I’d walk. It was whilst I was wandering aimlessly in the direction of the other side of the city that I stumbled across what I think is my favourite part of Madrid. It’s called Barrio de las Letras, on account of all the well-known writers who lived here. Cervantes, author of Don Quijote, even has a street named after him, where he used to live. It’s a peaceful area, tree lined, cobbled streets, colourful with a bit of street art and it all comes together at the very pretty Plaza de Santa Ana, which contains a statue to the poet Federico Garcia Lorca. It’s a lovely area for just wandering around the little independent stores and it’s where I found my favourite little coffee shop which I’ll share with you when I tell you about food. It’s my sort of area and I loved it. If you want cocktail bars, high street stores and fast food you won’t like it, you need to be on Gran Via, but if you want a bit of time wandering in the slow lane come here, you’ll love it.

Towards the centre of the city, as you make your way over to the other side, you will come across the Puerta del Sol. It is one of the busiest places in the city and contains quite a few things. Firstly, it contains the plaque to the Kilometre Zero (KM0), the point from which all radial roads in Spain are measured. It was established in 1857, and there are 6 roads numbered N1 to N6, which radiate clockwise from this point.

Also in Puerta del Sol is the statue of the Bear and the Madroño Tree, heraldic symbol of Madrid.

And you’ll never guess what else there is……………………………yes, there’s a man on a horse………this time its Carlos III.

If you walk right to the west side of the city, you will come to the Royal Palace. It looks very pretty and apparently is very beautiful but I just didn’t have the time to go inside and by that time I’d spent that long wandering around I just could not be bothered to walk any further. Luckily though, opposite the Royal Palace is the Plaza de Oriente. This is a very pretty square, overlooked by the very nice Cafe de Oriente where you can treat yourself to a posh cup of coffee whilst overlooking the very pretty gardens which contain a statue of…………………wait for it……………..a man on a horse! This time, it’s Felipe IV.

While you are over here, you are not too far away from the Plaza de Espana. If fountains are your thing, then this square contains a lovely one.

The final place I wanted to go to was the bull ring. The easiest way to get there would be bus or metro. It’s a good couple of miles out of the city. However, on this particular day, I was wandering aimlessly to the bus stop when I came to a Police cordon. Then came the helicopters, then the riot vans, then tens of thousands of pro-Palestinian supporters on a protest march, which I suddenly found myself amongst. Given that I don’t really like lots of people and noise, it wasn’t my greatest moment! They were all very friendly, but I shot down a side street as soon as I could and walked all the way to the bull ring, as all public transport was temporarily stopped. That’s how I know it’s a LONG WAY! Take the bus or metro. My plan was to get the bus back into the city, that was until two drove past me completely full because Atletico de Madrid had just defeated Las Palmas 5-0 and everyone was on their way back to the city. The metro was the same, so I walked it all the way back too. But I did have a midway stop in a cake shop for fuel!

The bull ring, known as Las Ventas, was nice. It is Arabic in style and is the largest in Spain and third largest in the world. They do guided tours, and if you have never been a bull ring, I would say it would be worth going inside to learn about the history of the bull ring and the life and costumes of the matadors. I did not go inside because I think once you’ve seen one bull ring they are probably all quite similar and I have recently been inside the bullring in Seville, which some claim to be the most beautiful in the world. There are a number of statues outside, and these are worth a little look. There are some of bulls and some of famous matadors such as Antonio Bienvenida from Venezuela, who was one of Madrid’s most famous matadors who came to a sticky end in 1975 after an altercation with a young heifer on a local ranch. There is also an interesting statue celebrating the scientist Alexander Fleming, and I did wonder what a statue to him was doing outside a bullring. Well, bullfighters were a big fan of his as he developed Penicillin. and apparently, when you are gored by a bull, a decent amount of bacteria from the bull’s horn finds its way into the wound. Therefore, Alexander and his Penicillin were the saviour of many a gored matador!

Now to tell you about food! My favourite subject. What did I eat and where?

When in Spain you just have to have churros and chocolate……….chocolate so thick you can stand your spoon up in it. Not too far from the hotel was the quite well-known Chocolateria San Gines. It has a number of outlets all clustered together in the same area and they are open 24/7……………….yes, you can have churros and chocolate at 3am if you want! So my first breakfast was of churros and chocolate, and having eyes bigger than my belly, I had 6 churros and felt quite sick afterwards. Well recommended though, they were delicious!

Madrid, like many cities in Spain, has a number of fantastic food markets, where not only can you do your food shopping, you can also eat and drink inside them. There are usually lots of different stalls selling a whole host of different local food products, and they are a fantastic place to try all sorts of local cuisine. Just behind the Plaza Major, there is a bustling one called Mercado de San Miguel. I loved this one.

It was so authentic and filled with mainly Spanish and local people. It was very busy to say it was a Monday lunchtime. Each stall tends to specialise in a different food. There were stalls with seafood, olives, cheese, sausages, wine, cider…………………it was heaven!!!

The trouble is there is too much choice and I can’t decide. I had a couple of glasses of Albariño wine. To eat, I had some fried seafood, then some cheeses, then a pinxto with chorizo, goats cheese and peppers as I felt like I was missing some sausage……..you can’t come to Spain and not have sausage. You must visit this or another market if you come, it’s such good fun.

If you feel like some proper, traditional, and authentic food one night, I can highly recommend a little restaurant called Taberna La Carmencita in Chueca. The taberna has been around since 1854 and was the regular haunt of legendary poet Pablo Neruda. It has a lovely menu of traditional, wholesome Spanish dishes, and when you walk in, you are transported back to 1854.

The walls are all tiled, the floor wooden, with old dark wood tables and chairs and quite dim lighting. The staff were lovely and although they had a busy evening they found me a perfect little table for one in the window. I ordered ‘Paletilla de Cordero’, which was a lovely shoulder of lamb casseroled with seasonal vegetables and served with some baked potato wedges. While I was waiting, they brought me an appetiser of warm, crusty, toasted bread and duck liver pate.

It you are looking for something simple for breakfast, brunch, a fantastic cup of coffee, or both, I recommend Cafe Gosto in Barrio de las Letras. They do the most delicious avocado and almond toast along with all sorts of other tostadas, snacks, and cakes, and their coffee is delicious.

If you like biscuits and cookies, you should also go to the monastery of Corpus Christi and buy some cookies freshly baked by the nuns. It’s worth going for the experience of buying them. It looks like a bit of a drug handover. If you go to Calle del Codo 3, you will come to a door with a sign on that says ‘Venta de Dulces’. Ring the doorbell that says ‘Las Monjas’ (Nuns), and they will buzz you through the door.

Follow the signs until you come to a Lazy Susan turntable built into the wall. There is a price list and a list of cookies available on the wall at the side. There are shortbreads, almond cookies, orange cookies, and quite a few more. You can’t see the nuns, they are not allowed to be seen. You ask for the cookies you want and put your money on the turntable. They twizzle it around, you take your cookies they have put on the turntable, and they take your money.

The cookies come in 500g or 1kg boxes. It might sound like a large quantity, but they are so delicious I had no issues devouring a 500g box to myself over the course of the week. I’m sure that will not surprise anyone. Most of them I ate on Valentines night in bed with my PJ’s on. I started off with a lovely glass of wine in the hotel bar but then I thought, do you know what, a good film with my cookies and PJ’s in bed would be a much better idea!

Finally, I need to tell you about Calle Cava Baja in the La Latina area. This is affectionately known as ‘tapas street’. A number of cities have one major street which has been taken over by eateries and bars where you can just work your way from one bar to the other, or you can just sit in one, it’s up to you. It was Saturday night when I went down Calle Cava Baja, so it was heaving with people. I found myself in a tapas bar called La Concha. I was attracted by the pretty turquoise blue and red façade and an excellent tapas menu.

I was intrigued as to what everyone was drinking. They all seemed to be drinking the same thing. I was told it was a ‘Manuela’. Not wanting to be left out, I ordered one without really knowing what it was. Anyway, it transpires that the Manuela is named after the daughter of the owner. It is made by putting an ice cube in a martini glass, spraying it with gin three times exactly, dropping in a cocktail stick with an olive and a piece or orange peel on it, pouring in vermouth and then topping the glass up with a generous serving of Campari bitters. The nearest thing I can liken the taste to is a Negroni, and I love a Negroni! It’s La Concha’s Spanish Negroni with the vermouth replacing the martini. It went really well with my tapas of albóndigas (meatballs) and a roasted pepper dish with gratinated local cheese and crusty bread.

That’s about all I had time to squeeze into my three days in Madrid but hopefully that should give you an idea as to what it’s like, some top tips as to the main places to visit and where to sample some good Spanish food. It’s an amazing city, not my favourite, by a long way, perhaps a bit too busy for me. But if you like gigantic cities with lots going on, like London, you’ll love it. I think I prefer smaller cities. I preferred Porto to Lisbon, I’d choose Bologna or Sienna over Florence or Venice, I’d choose Barcelona, Seville, Salamanca, Granada or Bilbao in the Basque country over Madrid. They are just that bit smaller and more authentic to me, and I just feel more relaxed and at home in them, but everybody is different, and I’d certainly recommend Madrid.

To follow………….Segovia, Salamanca and Toledo…………..when I have time to write, because I am now just 5 weeks away (sounds better than 35 days) from my marathon. So if I’m not working, sleeping or eating…………..I’m running or having a tantrum about running. 😂 Adios for now!

😂😂😂 Yes, it’s official………………I’m completely losing my mind!! For anyone out there that is at that stage in your life and you are worrying that you just can’t function………………..don’t fret…………..it’s completely normal. The thing is, it’s the only time in your life when you can do the most stupid stuff, have an excuse, and get away with it! 😆 So embrace it and have fun!

In addition to brain fog, I am getting more and more intolerant of people and am find it increasingly difficult to keep my mouth shut. In a meeting, I would almost always rather sit and listen and add my strategic perspective at an opportune moment, rather than be the centre of attention, I don’t need to hear the sound of my own voice. I most certainly have those times when I’m all ‘peopled out’ and just need my own company for an hour or two. I’m grumpy at this time of year anyway………my hibernation ends late February, and this half term has been so busy. I saw this pie chart the other day and I thought, “That is so me!” I even had to practice my breathing in a meeting last week just to force myself to keep my mouth shut!😆

Except I’m not much of a swearer. My four letter word would probably be “Shit” and even then I’d take 20% off that and reallocate another 10% to “I’m hungry” and another 10% to “What an idiot”.

Sometimes, my mid-life brain fog is so bad it gets a bit frustrating. I do things like go to the shopping centre, come out again, and have no idea where I’ve parked the car……….so I have to walk around pressing the button until the car winks at me with it’s lights. I’ve been to the shop and walked home, forgetting I’ve gone in the car and then had to walk back to get the car! Being a bit of a control freak it used to really get to me when I did stupid things and I would end up in tears……… it was like being on an emotional rollercoaster. If you are the same, then seriously consider hormone patches…………….. they are amazing!!! I’d tried all the homeopathic stuff: yoga, diet, extract of this and that………but nothing seemed to work. Anyway, the doctor convinced me that with the healthy lifestyle I live (I didn’t tell her about the cake🤭) the increased risks were negligible and I should stop battling it and try patches.

Now, I know they don’t work for everyone, but for me they have been transformational. The thing is, the brain fog does not go away, you just don’t give a shit anymore……………..about anything!!!!! 😂😂 Well, anything little that you should not be worrying about. I still give a shit about the important stuff like what’s going on in the world at the moment, be it politics, war, humanitarian and environmental issues, as they still really upset me and make me angry. But all the anxiety about stuff that doesn’t matter has gone, I don’t care who is in control and I am now just crashing about and running my way through the menopause making a complete fool of myself. It’s so much fun.

Normally I can conceal my misdemeanours at work, but not this week! At work I am supposed to be in control and know what I’m doing. I have a quiet little office. I sit in there with my tea trolley, and work on my budgets, numbers and spreadsheets quite happily. I’ve repurposed one of those little vintage tea trolleys and if you need a good cuppa, my office is the place to be, I’m always happy to share. Beverages are lined up left to right as I try to make it through the day. I start on the Azera caffeine first thing in the morning. Mid morning it’s time for Peppermint tea. By lunchtime I’m ready for ‘Radiance’ which is supposed to promote an ‘inner glow’, although I’ve yet to experience one at work! By mid afternoon I’ve lost the will to live so I have a cup of ‘Peace’ containing hemp seed oil as I just try to make it to the end of the day. If it gets really bad I always have the Ferrero chocolates in the dish for emergencies.

Anyway, no-one notices when I do something stupid like look for my glasses when they are on my head; or wonder why my mouse is not moving on the screen when I am clutching and gliding the stapler over the mouse mat. But this was the week I was caught red handed when I went into the general office to access the safe and was caught trying to open the refrigerator with the safe keys.

Anyway, in addition to the patches, other things that really help and I would endorse have been good old fresh air, exercise and diet.

When it comes to fresh air and exercise we all know I like to have a good run. So what have I been up to this month? Well, I have done the Meltham Tough 10k………and tough it was. I went nice and slow though as I have been instructed by my lovely physio that I can only run steadily for a while. I have an issue with my piriformis muscle (never knew I had one until last week!) and my sciatic nerve and it’s causing me much pain down my left leg. So I have to behave, which I am finding quite difficult as I do like to do the opposite of what I’m told.😆Oh well, I guess I got to look around more , enjoy it, and my watch did still say 648 calories worked off which still equated to one huge piece of cake at the end.

January has also seen me having some hair chopped off especially for the marathon in April. My curly hair was driving me crazy. I’ve tried wearing a buff to run, but I just get too hot. I spend entire races pulling it out of my mouth. So I’ve reluctantly had some cut off and I think I hate it! 😢It’s still curly but I just don’t think it’s as pretty and feminine, and someone even said I look mischievous, which we all know is not the case! 🤭😂 But for heavens sake it’s only hair it will grow back quickly and it will serve a purpose until April, so I’m not going to get too upset about it! I could really do without having offspring though who just love to make fun of me, and it’s a good job love is unconditional. Not wanting to be torn apart in person I sent them a photo to announce the haircut…………………… get the ridiculing out of the way online I thought………

I braced myself for the reply, which contained no words…………….just this!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Seriously!!! Beaker from the Muppets!?! If it were not for the feel good hormones in my patch I could be emotionally destroyed. But I’m going to rise above it and await a suitable time and moment to inflict my revenge!

So, I’ve had to step off the running a bit in January and do a bit more of my second love …………. walking, and I have a lovely walk to share with you. Because let’s face it, at this time of year it’s a bit grim up North, and other than sit still in front of a fire, read and eat cake, the options for entertainment are limited. So I went on a lovely little weekend day trip towards the east coast of Yorkshire, to the little market town of Helmsley, where I did a nice circular walk to Rievaulx Abbey and back. The good thing about this time of year though is I can get my bobble hats back out!

This walk comes well recommended. Helmsley is a lovely old Yorkshire market town with some beautiful shops and cafes, and is a great start and end point for the walk.

I saw the first signs of Spring which always cheers me up! Some beautiful little snowdrops poking their heads up out of the grass. It’s a little too early for the daffodils, which I adore. It was cold, it was damp, but is was oh so pretty and nothing can prepare you for that first dramatic sighting of Rievaulx Abbey……………..it is huge! It is such a peaceful and secluded place, perfect for one of those escapism walks. Don’t expect anything fancy, it’s a ruin in the North York Moors National Park, but its setting is delightful. It was one of the great Cistercian Abbeys in England, seat of Aelred of Rievaulx, until it was seized in 1538 by Henry VIII, who after doing away with all his wives, decided to turn his attentions to monks and close down and confiscate the lands and wealth of all the monasteries in England and Wales in his reformation of the Church.

The abbey is now looked after by English Heritage. There are lots of information boards around the grounds explaining everything from the architecture, to the living conditions and lifestyle of the monks. It really is quite interesting. It is not until you stand underneath the main cloister that you realise just how huge it is, and what a feat it must have been to build it. The drainage is still intact and the ingenuity of the design is evident as you see how the monastery has a network of drainage channels underneath it which are constantly flushed by a diversion from the river. It was very quiet on this particular Sunday in the middle of winter and it had an almost eerie, spooky feel about it. Anyway, if you are ever in the vicinity it’s worth a visit.

Then the best bit of the day! No visit to the east coast is complete without a battered cod and chips, in a good old fashioned pub, with a log fire……..a perfect end to a lovely day.

Talking of food, this is where I need to tell you about my microbiome. This has been a revelation to me, and I have a couple of recipes and some top tips for you. I never knew I had a microbiome inside me! I have been happily cramming anything and everything into my stomach for 52 years as I love food. However, this last year or two I have had a temperamental stomach. It’s worse if I’m stressing about something, and particular foods also cause me discomfort, particularly multi seed bread, broccoli, beans, aubergines………which unfortunately are all things that I love and cannot give up entirely. But like most things in life, it’s all about balance, and this is where the microbiome comes in. The microbiome is a full ecosystem of microbes and bacteria that live inside your gut. We all have one, but I’ve only just discovered mine! 😆Loving science, I am now fascinated by it.

The secret is to balance your microbes or your good and bad bacteria. I have lovely running friend, and she told me about my microbiome and the fact that mine could be lacking in good bacteria and had I tried replacing it by eating fermented food. Yuk, I instantly thought, as someone started rambling on about fermenting cabbage for 10 days in a jar. This is not for me I thought. Anyway, my lovely friend is from Bulgaria, who along with the Greeks are expert yoghurt makers. She assured me that no fermented cabbage was necessary. She said all I needed was a packet of starter bacteria 2 litres of milk and a warm oven. You make one batch of yogurt and then every week you just use a spoonful of your already made yoghurt as your starter culture for the next batch. So along came my packet of Lactobacillus Bulgaricus and Streptococcus Thermophilus (I know, I’m making it sound delicious aren’t I!😂) and I made my first batch of fermented Bulgarian Yoghurt. You simply boil your milk, let it cool a bit, stir in your starter culture, and keep it warm and let if ferment for 8 hours. Well, it is quite simply delicious. I have some every morning with my breakfast and I can honestly say it has had a very positive impact on my tummy. It’s not 100%, but it’s a lot better. I now have a little yoghurt maker which I plug in and leave it in to ferment overnight, but you don’t need one. For the first few months I just turned the oven on before I went to bed. Put my yoghurt in jars, wrapped them in a towel, turned the oven off, put the wrapped jars in the oven without letting too much heat escape from the oven, and when I got up next morning it was ready. Pop it in the fridge and it keeps for a week.

I also bought an excellent book which I can recommend called ‘The Well Fed Microbiome Cookbook’ by Kristina Campbell. Apparently it is full of recipes to renew the body and brain. The body yes, but I refute its claim to renew the brain. As you can see from my antics above it’s not done much for my brain! 😁 But this book has the most amazing homemade granola recipe in. So once a week I make my yoghurt and my granola, and along with my fresh fruit, that’s my breakfast sorted for the week, except for the odd naughty breakfast I sneak in here and there. Because I am taking this impending marathon really seriously, it’s a mental game, and I appreciate now that I’m on my longer runs of 13 miles and over, that it’s also about nutrition. My Christmas excess has already fallen off, and it needs to stay off as I can do without carrying it 26 miles around Paris!

Which brings me onto my last topic for today……………….the ‘skinny’ muffin. The word itself brings me out in a cold sweat! Why, oh why, would anyone on earth want a ‘skinny’ muffin when you can have a real one!?!? I remember the first time I was asked when visiting a friend if I wanted a ‘skinny’ muffin with my cup of tea. Now I’m very polite and grateful so rather than saying what went through my head, “Are you serious, no thanks, I want a real one”, I delightfully accepted. Well last week, once again, I found myself eating my own words as I found a very easy recipe for making some very delicious skinny muffins. All you need is a 225g tin of pineapple, 2 tablespoons of prunes, half a cup of grated carrots, teaspoon of vanilla extract, 50g sultanas or raisins, 2 egg whites, 100g golden caster sugar, half a teaspoon of cinnamon, 1 teaspoon of baking powder and 200g of wholemeal flour. I needed to make them gluten free for a friend so used buckwheat flour instead of wholemeal. Basically you blitz the pineapple and prunes in a food processor or blender then place all the wet and dry ingredients together in a bowl, mixing them so they are all combined. Spoon the mixture into muffin cases and bake at 180C for 20 minutes (200C if you have no fan in your oven) and here is what you get………

They are actually very nice and never again will I make fun of the ‘skinny’ muffin………………..although I’d still prefer a real one!😂However, they are only ‘skinny’ if you have just one, and there is something psychological that kicks in when they are out of the oven and just warm that makes you eat more than one!

So other than losing my mind, rising above the emotional abuse inflicted on me by my children, trying to exercise, look after myself and bake my way to happiness that’s been pretty much it for this very busy January. The rather exciting thing is that I am exactly one week away today from a trip to Spain so I will have lots to tell you about on my return as I cram 4 cities into one week. This time next week I will have arrived, for a whole week!!!!!! I can’t wait………….I am so ready for it……………………….but is Spain ready for me?!?!? Because the rather nice thing is that it is a solo trip ………………….. one whole week with just myself for company to reset and recharge, meet new people, see new things and not eat ‘skinny’ muffins. The worrying bit for my family (my mother in particular) is that if I can’t find my way into the safe at work, or remember where I’ve left the car how on earth am I going to look after myself and negotiate the infrastructure and language in four different Spanish cities. Watch this space and wish me luck………………………….it could be fun. 😆

Now as you know I don’t really ‘do’ New Year. You see, for me, every day is the 1st January, a new start. No New Year’s resolutions because I’m a bit of a ‘doer’ every day, annoyingly positive, rather than a ‘going to do’ sort of person………always up to something. And I love to give and to make people smile!

Today is the 7th January and I’m sat here smiling…….I have no idea why, as I think I have had one of my worst starts to the year ever. Christmas was lovely but December 26th to yesterday has been a complete write off. But there’s a certain sense of accomplishment when you look back over a bit of a car crash of a week and a half and you think, well done me, I’ve got through it and carried everyone else through it too. I liked this below that my friend sent me as she’s a bit like me, not really into all the New Year hype.

I’ve got all sorts for you today. A recipe, a book recommendation and some excellent words of wisdom from Tim Minchin.

Christmas was lovely. And just before Christmas I undertook the great custard tart bake off. What is this you wonder. Well, I have shared before that for me there is no other custard tart than the Pasteis de Nata, or Portuguese custard tart. I have the greatest Dad in the world, but he’s a Yorkshire man. They are quite stubborn, obstinate, dare I say it …….. narrow minded, and for him the only custard tart is a Yorkshire Egg Custard……….just because it’s got ‘Yorkshire’ in the title. It could be the worst tart in the world (it’s not, it’s actually quite nice) but because it’s from Yorkshire it’s the best as far as he’s concerned. I’m not that blinkered and have quite a diverse palette. Yes, in some cases Yorkshire is the greatest. Forget Tetley or PG Tips there is no tea as fine as Yorkshire Tea in my opinion. However, custard tart, no! The Portuguese win on this one and I was determined to prove it. What’s the difference you might ask. Pasteis de Nata are individual, made with puff/flaky pastry (you have to make this yourself for the best result and not buy pre-made), sweeter, the custard is made via a completely different process. The Yorkshire Custard tart can be individual but is usually made as a whole tart and cut into slices. It is made with shortcrust pastry, has nutmeg in it and on the top, the custard is more ‘set’. Both are best served on the day they are made, still slightly warm in my opinion. Oh, and one more difference is that the Yorkshire Custard Tart is so easy to make, whereas the Pasteis de Nata, to make them properly are very difficult but oh so worth it. So, here they are!

Which won…………………well…………………the Pasteis de Nata won of course, it’s by far superior…………….for everyone except Dad who’s still going with the Yorkshire Egg Custard! He thought the Pasteis de Nata was ‘different’, and he’s not too keen on ‘different’…….he’s from Yorkshire! The Pasteis de Nata were absolutely superb and just as good as those you get in Lisbon. So here’s the link to the recipe if you want to try them. It’s by David Leite, Portuguese American chef which may explain why he makes the most amazing Pasteis de Nata! Now, I’m not the greatest at this technology game so if the link doesn’t work go on the Leites Culinaria website and find the Pasteis de Nata recipe.

https://leitesculinaria.com/7759/recipes-pasteis-de-nata.html

The only disappointing thing was they went lovely and brown all on their own in the oven so I did not get the chance to use my new culinary blowtorch………which I am in love with, and also dangerous with. I think I may have a problem, I have now found a website which is called, and is full of of, ‘Fun Recipes that Prove How Awesome a Blowtorch is’. It’s amazing, I can blow torch everything! The novelty may wear off when I need a new kitchen worksurface.

So the downhill bit all started the day after Christmas when I went for a little run. I was starting to feel a little ill so I thought,” I must go today because if I get any worse I’ll not be able to go tomorrow.” It was a mistake, I went and did 11 miles and came back feeling terrible. I was so achy and just could not lift my feet. I fall down at the best of times but this particular day I tripped twice and now definitely have feet like a Hobbit from Middle-earth. Just look at them (but perhaps not if you don’t like feet). I’m not that vain, so I don’t mind you seeing my worst bits as well as my best!

Now, I can be a bit of a Princess so my feet are causing me great distress, I’ve never had feet like this before! My Marathon is on 7th April……..I’m having a physio appointment with the lovely Oliver after work on the 8th April, to put me back together, and a pedicure on the 9th to have my feet massaged and my nails painted and covered with a rather more appealing colour. Now Oliver is a recent addition to the ‘get an older lady through a marathon’ team. He’s been set on as part of my Christmas present. You know things are getting bad when someone who cares about you buys you a physio appointment for Christmas! I’m physically starting to unravel. I’m already stuck together loosely with KT Tape and hormone patches but I am hoping that Oliver’s healing hands are going to convince my left hamstring and right hip that they can run a marathon.

So the day after the run I was so so poorly. I had to stay in bed and I never stay in bed, even when I’m poorly. Now I did not test as I don’t have any tests, but when I finished work for Christmas there were quite a few confirmed positive Covid cases and I strongly suspect that’s what I’ve had as I tried my first run yesterday and I just can’t breathe when my heartrate increases. I was so ill for three days. So at 20:00 hours on New Years eve, while everyone else was about to go out partying, this was me!!! Dead to the world. I felt so poorly and I saw none of the evening or first part of the next day!

So I awoke on New Years Day to an empty house, I had unsurprisingly been deserted. No-one had been to see if I needed medication, a drink or anything. I didn’t even know if anyone had yet come in from New Years eve. I was hungry and decided I’d go downstairs to try and make a little tortilla as I felt slightly better after my long 24 hour sleep and I knew we had eggs, potatoes and onions. I very quickly discovered that I was not alone in the house. All my potatoes had been nibbled, as had the garlic, and in the bottom of my vegetable container were none other than mouse droppings. The joys of living in the countryside in winter!!!!! So there was no tortilla just a very poorly me scrabbling around on my hands and knees in the kitchen cupboard trying to coax a mouse out with my best Christmas chocolate and Black Bomber cheese! Anyway, I caught it and it’s now living a perfectly happy life not in my kitchen!

So then the next couple of days were like the gift that just keeps on giving. I’m quite fit and I don’t moan a lot so if I’m ill I can normally battle on or I just take myself off to bed and I’m able to fight it. In theory, a 20 year old should be even fitter and be able to fight it off even better. That is unless you are living the life of a rock and roll superstar, staying our drinking until the early hours and not eating properly. I have a child that does that over the festive period. Well, being kind, I like to share, so I shared my illness with him. He started to feel ill in the evening and by lunchtime the next day he was in the local hospital wired up to IV antibiotics, steroids and pain relief……………the youth of today just don’t have the same resilience and strength as us tough older generations who party like a rockstars and battle all life throws at them too. 😂 No, I should not tease or laugh, it was really quite frightening and he stayed there for 3 days, with me, by now feeling a bit better, buying him copies of Beano, providing entertainment and reading my book at his side while he slept.

Anyway he came out of hospital on 5th January and I’ve had two days to make and finish two full length pairs of curtains before I go back to work on 8th January. I was supposed to have two weeks to do this and I had planned it in as my rest and relaxation time, as I love being creative and working with textiles. I could not put the old curtains back up after the decorator left as being a bit of a doer I’d already sent them to the Heart Foundation charity shop! 😆

I’d seen some amazing 100% UK woven and made fabric which I fell in love with but it was really expensive and I needed 20 metres as I have floor to ceiling windows at both ends of the living room. I do like to buy good quality British fabric though as I know it’s been ethically sourced and no-one has been exploited in it’s making. It also keeps the Yorkshire textile and weaving mill traditions and industry going, which was, and still is, world renowned amongst the best designers in the business. According to the internet the top five textile producers in the world in terms of quality and affordability are Turkey, United Kingdom, Ghana, Nigeria and Morocco, in that order. The second placed are the most expensive, we are taking around £60 a metre for good quality curtaining fabric, but there’s a reason for it and that reason are the laws that are in place with regards to minimum wage, working conditions, human trafficking and minimum age of workforce. On this basis I am always careful to check the source of the fabric and look for that Union Jack kitemark and stamp on the selvedge so I know what I’m getting.

The downside of course is the price, so the only way to get my curtains was to buy the fabric direct from the source and make them myself. I have made curtains in the past, but not this large, and not with fabric of such a high value. To say I was having palpitations cutting the lengths was an understatement…………a cut in the wrong place would have been costly. However, I’m pleased to say they are finished and up and I love them. They are lovely and light and have blues and ambers in them and all my favourite things from nature; seed pods, ferns, leaves, flower heads. I am secretly very proud of myself and my new curtains……and my pattern match, as the video demonstrates……me just showing off.

So other than being ill, making curtains and hospital visiting I’ve only really had time for resting and reading, which are what I wanted to do. The two weeks have gone by in a flash. The book I have being reading, that you must read, is “Just a Little Run Around the World” by Rosie Swale-Pope. This is probably the most inspirational book I have ever, ever read. What a lady. It’s a true account of Rosie’s run around the world, written by Rosie, who is from Tenby in Wales. She found herself alone after being widowed at the age of 57. She needed to do something, a focus to get over her grief, to raise money for charity and to find herself again. Now I get that, I disappear to walk to find myself and have run to raise money and process grief, but my goodness, all the way around the world at 57 years of age. It took her 5 whole years. She crossed Siberia, Alaska, was held at knifepoint, surrounded by a pack of wolves, got frostbite and so many more adventures and ordeals. This book is amazing, read it, you will not regret it, neither will you ever moan or feel sorry for yourself again…….or if you do, think of Rosie and get over yourself! When her husband was alive she sailed to Australia and back with him and gave birth to her son on board boat! OMG, I had a full maternity birthing unit, someone to mop my brow and that much Pethidine and Entonox I was high for days. Rosie, I hope, has her feet up somewhere eating chocolate now, and she very rightly has an MBE awarded by Queen Elizabeth for bravery! The rather frightening thing is that Rosie’s adventures started when she decided to run her first marathon at 48………………I’ll say no more! I’ll send you a postcard from Alaska! I am of course joking.

So after all the above excitement I’m still smiling. I just had one day of my holiday left to test my new mud sneakers up on Langsett moor and one evening to go out and party to make up for the lost week. The good news was my sneakers were great, I stayed upright and still have only 2 black toe nails. The bad news was I’m now convinced it was Covid as I can’t breathe and I’m going to have to take a few more days off running.

I also think I may have shoe OCD. Langsett was glorious as always, and I had my fix of solitude and views. I well and truly christened my shoes but I have realised I just can’t have muddy shoes. I came home, cleaned all the mud off and put them back in the box as if they were new. So it sort of defeats the objective of having mud shoes. I’m just that bit too much Princess to have muddy shoes. And just in case anyone was wondering if all I do is run and walk round in exercise gear without my makeup on when I’m off duty the answer is no…….I like to party, just not on New Years eve! So last night I found my smile and my party dress and off I went…….still a little pasty white and dark under the eyes but it felt good to be in the civilised world again with a glass of wine in hand!

So that’s it. No New Year resolutions. But if you want a bit of inspiration just listen to this! How very, very, true. Tim Minchin’s 9 Lessons in Life acceptance speech at UWA when he accepted his doctorate. I like the way this man’s mind works and his philosophy, and I also find him very funny. You may love him, you may hate him. He has some pretty radical ideas, is an atheist which may upset some, but you can’t get away from the fact that his 9 life lessons are good ones. A friend sent this to me knowing I would like it, and I do. I am far more interested in the mind of a person, their thought process and what comes out of their mouth that anything else about them, their belief, colour, gender or whatever. So here are your pearls of wisdom for the new year. Happy New Year, keep smiling and be fabulous you every day!

Ho Ho Ho!!! It’s that time of year again! It’s come around oh so quickly this year. That one time of the year when I don’t mind being woken up on a Sunday morning at the crack of dawn by a commotion and racket underneath my bedroom window on a dull, windy and stormy day………….

Isn’t that lovely………..that’s our very own village brass band going around the streets in the village ‘very’ early on a Sunday morning, serenading the start of the festive period. It’s an annual tradition that happens every year and is the start of Christmas for me. My diary blog has been a little bit light recently, I know, because it’s been a little busy.

I’ve been doing all my usual Christmas things, wreath making, cake decorating, lots of baking…………and of course working hard as I don’t break up from work until 22nd December. And, most important of all…………………..I’ve got my boys back home for three weeks. More on them and their antics in a minute. Oh, and I’ve taken my lovely Mum out for our annual girls Christmas lunch. Either she’s shrinking, or plates are getting bigger, but I actually managed to find somewhere with a plate as big as her. Don’t be fooled by the smile, she’s now learnt the full extent of my running exploits of recent weeks and of my impending marathon, so I am now even more irresponsible than she thought I was before apparently!

It’s really strange though this year, Christmas feels different. I’ve been on a real roller coaster these last couple of weeks and it all just feels a bit surreal. I’m also acutely aware that for some people Christmas is like that every year. I get that. I love Christmas, but I hate New Year.

I’m feeling really restless, so much so that I nearly ended up on a New Year flight to Lanzarote! My finger was so close to the ‘book’ button but I thought “No, you already have more air miles than a British Airways pilot this year, behave yourself!” So I’ve resisted the temptation because I have some things to do at home and I need a rest. When I say restless, I’m absolutely fine, I hope I always will be OK because I’m just like that, I just get on with it, always moving forwards. But I’ve been in one of those really reflective moods, one of those where you suddenly realise life is so short, and you start making all these plans, which is good I guess. There’s a reason for it, I’ll explain in a moment.

It all started with my period of ‘nesting’. This still makes me laugh but I’m still doing that thing when I learn the boys are coming home when I start going through the house like something crazed getting ready for the impending arrival. One of them has had new bedding, there are new towels, and then I suddenly decided the week before Christmas that I needed to clear the hallway cupboard because once I start I can’t stop. It’s that cupboard that everyone has, full of shoes, iron, ironing board, hoover……….everything!! It’s like a black hole.

It was filthy, and I mean really dirty, because everyone has just thrown their muddy shoes directly onto the shelves and I can’t cope with dirt. So I decided it was going to have an IKEA makeover and some organisation, which is very me. That was mistake number one……..the trip to IKEA. I have a love hate relationship with IKEA. So Saturday was spent scrubbing the cupboard and buying storage boxes in IKEA, and a little sort of basket thing on wheels with pull out drawers. The visit to IKEA went well. However, the evening went not so well. Have you ever tried building an IKEA storage unit using those ridiculous diagrammatical instructions without writing, late at night when you’ve had a couple of glasses of wine. Oh my days! It’s a good job there was no recording as I don’t often swear but this really did bring out the worst in me.

Anyway, I was very pleased with the ‘after’. My new shiny cupboard, all scrubbed clean and organised, just how I like it.

Anyway, it did not stop there, I then proceeded to tidy out my wardrobes which I haven’t done for years and they are another black hole. It got me reminiscing and feeling all emotional for a number of reasons. I’d had a bit of bad news earlier in the week last week that I’ve not really shared with anyone. I have a friend who has been battling Motor Neurone disease for a few years now and unfortunately I learnt this week that she also now has terminal breast cancer which has spread to her lungs. And it got me thinking that sometimes life can be so cruel, but that I personally have such a lot to be thankful for, as I desperately tried to think of the positives through floods of tears. As I was clearing out my wardrobe I came across my wedding album, it’s been stuffed at the back of there since 1999! So I thought I’d have a quick look through and I came across the photograph below.

One of my favourite photos of the girls!! My wingmen, partners in crime and party animals of the 1980’s and 1990’s. Well, we can still have a damned good time now actually when we get let loose! Now, normally this photo makes me smile but this week it made me feel so sad and I cried and cried. Because, the one lovely friend I mention above is on there, and so is another lovely friend who is sadly no longer with us. And the ironic thing is that a couple of hours after I had been looking at this photograph I got a notification of a Facebook post from her husband on the 10th Anniversary of her death, she died of cancer on 18th December 2013, with some absolutely beautiful words that he had written to remember her.

Anyway, it got me thinking about how short life is and I gave myself a good talking to and now I’m fine! Life is hard sometimes, and sometimes it will try to break you, but what does not kill you makes you stronger they say don’t they. I guess we have to take the positives from every situation. I am so fortunate and lucky to have and have had these wonderful people in my life, and goodness gracious we have had some absolutely amazing times. It’s important to remember those at Christmas, and every day, and be thankful for them. My friend who I lost 10 years ago is the reason for me running. I guess we are all different but I’m one of those people that whenever anything distressing or upsetting happens to me, I have to busy myself or find a focus to cope. Running was my focus after I lost Karen and I raised quite a bit of money for Cancer Research and Macmillan after her death as it just gave me a focus and some purpose, the alternative would have been to fall apart, which I will do for a short while in private, that’s important to do too, to let it all out.

So, up until now Christmas has felt a bit strange because of this. A bit of bad news, feeling a bit restless, so keeping myself busy by nesting and implementing a DIY makeover! Oh and of course Marathon training. I’m at the eat, sleep, run, work, repeat stage. I have time for nothing else, hence the absence of posts. We are now less than 4 months to the big day and I’m up to 16 miles! I’ll do a separate post nearer the time on all things marathon as it is taking every tiny bit of my mental strength to get through this which might have something to do with my Christmas feeling a bit odd. I’ve realised that running a marathon is so much more about mental strength than physical. Advice for anyone doing a marathon is not to do one in April like me, do one at the end of the year and train through the summer. I’ve had more tantrums and tears than a 2 year old in training! There’s nothing worse that coming home from work, midweek, it’s cold, it’s dark, it’s wet, I’m tired, I’m hungry and I’ve got to run 10 miles through the countryside with my headtorch before I have my tea. I go alone because I am best avoided! But me being me I absolutely know I’ll be on that finishing line on 7th April, I’ll be devastated if I’m not. Only injury will stop me. I won’t be fast and it won’t look pretty but I will be there, hair all over the place, in tears, thinking of my lovely friends above and no doubt plotting the quickest and most direct route from the finishing line to the nearest boulangerie! Not even the fact that I was beaten in a training race last weekend by a human dressed in a full sized carrot outfit will dampen my spirits! It’s just one step at a time, one foot in front of the other for 26 miles……simple!

Anyway, three days to Christmas (well it is as I’m writing this bit) and they are back! My pride and joy and my greatest achievement in life………my boys! I actually saw them a couple of weeks ago, as I hadn’t seen them for almost three months, so I went to them for the weekend as I just could not wait until Christmas. They are home for 3 weeks so there will not be a dull moment in our house! I have piles of student washing to get though before Christmas, and they have already had plenty of mileage out of the above mentioned carrot incident! I am rising above it though and being the better person, they will be laughing on the other side of their faces when I come streaking down the Champs Elysée’s like a bolt of lightening! I got my own back though by showing them their Christening gown, which I also found hidden at the back of my wardrobe. I did tell you there was everything in there, it really was a black hole, I was pulling things out for hours! It’s a lovely silk organza dress I had made for them, with matching jacket and hat, with their names embroidered in silk thread around the hem. More reminiscing and reflecting! They are horrified that I would dress them in such a garment and I have warned them that photographic evidence of them wearing it exists, is close to hand, and can be made public if there is any further word of the carrot incident in the aforementioned race!

It got me thinking though how two children, of the same parentage, can be so different. I absolutely adore them both equally and without measure but one is so independent, confident, worldly wise, organised etc. He’d no sooner walked through the door and grabbed a beer from the fridge (before saying hello I might add) when he started to tell me all about his plans to spend next summer in Nepal or Brazil. That was of course after he’d completely ignored the instructions to put his shoes in his allocated newly organised IKEA box and left his shoes in the middle of the floor, not even on the mat, like he always does!

He was followed by the other one a couple of hours later desperate to share the news of his tattoo. Now I’m quite a liberal parent. There’s no point trying to stop them doing something as they’ll just resent you and do it anyway. He has been wanting a tattoo for ages so I’ve been quite positive about it. He was going to have it done anyway so I thought that way I might be at least able to offer a bit of guidance as to where to have it (or more where not to have it), and a bit of input as to the subject. Well too late, it’s done. However, this is the one who gives me sleepless nights. He’s well and truly a home bird, but despite my trying, he is not taking the hints that I keep giving him about the fact that he is now an adult and no longer my responsibility. He’s my Peter Pan, very sensitive, emotional, forever getting into some scrape or other and forever running out of money! He’s like a boomerang………no sooner do you set him up and launch him off in one direction and breathe a sigh of relief, than he comes rebounding back. The only problem now is that even if he gets amnesia he’s still going to come bounding back, or someone will return him, because he’s only gone and had a compass and the coordinates for ‘home’ tattooed in large type all down his forearm.

At least he’s had it somewhere he can cover it up I thought. However, my heart sunk as I thought by ‘home’ he meant the house coordinates, and my plan in the short term is retirement and a base somewhere other than the UK. However, fear not, ‘home’ is apparently our favourite bench in the village where we’ve gone on walks to watch the sun set ever since he was little, the bench where we revised for exams during home study and the pandemic, the bench where he has hung around with his mates and a few beers as he’s got older, the bench where he asked his first girlfriend out on a date. Apparently, that bench, wherever he is in the world, and wherever I am in the world, will always represent ‘home’. Aaaaww how sweet I thought, whilst breathing a sign of relief that I’ve not made life so comfortable that he’s planning on living with me for ever!

So that’s it really, I’m just looking forward to having a really big rest and relax over Christmas, some good food, fresh air, walking and lots of lovely time with my friends, family and my boys. I have a pile of National Geographic Traveller magazines to flick through for inspiration, some books to read, I’m half way through an excellent one that I’ll tell you about and recommend in the New Year because I’ve not finished it yet. I have watched an excellent film though that I can definitely recommend……….it’s a box of tissues needed one. It’s Italian and I watched it in Italian but I’m sure you will be able to get it with subtitles if you don’t understand Italian. I probably watch more films in Italian that I do English and I’ve even started to dream in Italian which is a bit odd, I’m not sure what that means. It’s a lovely film, but sad, with a really important message. It’s called ‘Va dove ti porta il cuore’ which basically translates as ‘Go where your heart takes you’. Without giving you too much detail and spoiling it it is based on a diary a dying grandmother writes for her granddaughter to read after she has gone, to give her the important message to always follow her heart rather than her head to find true happiness. The grandma basically reveals the details of a hidden secret and reflects on a time when she followed her heart. It’s a lovely love story but very sad and thought provoking. It really did make me cry in a week when I had received the above news and yes, I have no problems being in touch with my emotional side and following my heart. I would always say be thankful, be brave, follow your heart and don’t take the obvious path. It’s lots of fun and leads to the most amazing adventures, incredible high’s, some huge lows too, but ultimately you won’t get to the end of your time and think “Should have”, “Could have”, “What if?” Because this week has reaffirmed for me that life is just too short, and that’s basically what the film is about too.

So have a very Merry Christmas. Drink, eat mince pies, be merry, misbehave, follow your heart and I’ll see you on the other side in 2024!

Oh I loved Porto………in fact, I liked it more than Lisbon. So today I’m going to give you a quick guide to Porto and what the highlights were for me.

I’ve sorted my photographs and this afternoon I have time to write……..because I am partly incapacitated after being told little white lies by a vicar of all people! I’ll tell you briefly about that first. This morning I have run a local fell race, which was a fund raiser for the local primary school. It was 8 miles but quite tough on the fells, quite muddy, and icy in places, with 1230ft of ascent. The morning didn’t start well when I had to de-ice my car and scrape the ice off the windscreen in my shorts! Anyway the sun came out, even though it was still minus 3 degrees, I got there and was all ready to start when the quite cool, ultra running vicar, Revered Mike, came out to bless us all! 😄

Now I have to admit I’m not really into blessings and all that sort of thing and thought quietly to myself that it was going to take a lot more than a blessing from an ultra running vicar to speed me around this, even though I had put my go faster, knee length, pink compression socks on. It’s the first time I’ve been blessed before a race ……….. let’s see if it makes a difference I thought! Anyway, Reverend Mike then thought he’d share a verse from the bible to inspire us 😕…….. Isaiah 26:7 I think he said it was…….and it went like this: ‘The path of the righteous is level; You, the Lord, clear a straight path for the upright; The way of the just is smooth; the path of the just, You, the Lord, make level.’

Now let me tell you, I might be banished forever from the pearly gates for saying it, but this is simply not true!!!! I can confirm that the path was not level, was not straight, was not smooth. So either: Reverend Mike told us a little white lie; Isaiah has never run this race and that passage needs re-writing because it’s a load of codswallop; or perhaps it’s just that I’m neither righteous, upright or just, and my name is on the wrong list so he made it an uphill, rocky, twisty, bumpy, muddy slog for me. I can confirm no angel appeared to speed me to the cakes at the end quite as quickly as I would have liked. The upside is I’m now all snuggled in my bathrobe, music on, treats in place with time to tell you about Porto, because I ache too much to do anything else. This photograph below, from the race, made me smile. You have to zoom in on the man behind me (yes, there are people behind me, I’m not always at the back!). That is the face and brow wipe of a man who on a cold and frosty morning has just been overtaken by a grinning 52 year old female in knee length pink socks, shouting “Good morning, it’s a lovely day for it isn’t it!”. I like to remain cheery in the face of adversity!

So………Porto. It was another late arrival in the dark and I was tired and hungry. But as if by fate I walked past a bar on the way to the apartment that sold Pinxtos………yes, Pinxtos in Portugal……and I love Pinxtos, so I disappeared inside for a few of those before going to my apartment and my bed.

I was so tired I didn’t even have time to explore my apartment but it appeared to have a lovely view over the city and down to the river.

I awoke the next morning to discover it was a little gem of an apartment, and I would very much recommend it. So if you are looking for an apartment in the old town, or Ribeira as it’s called, I can recommend Casas de Sant Ana. The apartment was located in the oldest street in the city, right in the historical centre. The building looks really old on the outside but inside it was so modern and well appointed, nothing had been forgotten. I had my coffee machine, lovely comfy bed, lounge area, view of the river and despite the hustle and bustle outside it was so quiet inside.

First of all breakfast. I was very hungry and went to Floresta Cafe, following a recommendation. It was so good. Now this might look and sound like the oddest combination for breakfast, and I must admit when I read it, it sounded odd, but I was intrigued as to how the combination would work together. It was toasted sour dough topped with cream cheese, smashed avocado, strawberries, halloumi, pistachios and strawberry conserve. Now doesn’t that just sound like the most bizarre breakfast………but it was so good and just worked together so well……..with of course a white coffee.

Then I made an exciting discovery! Just as I was walking around the old town past my apartment on the way to my first stop, the cathedral, I came across a Camino shell way marker on the path………I was back on the Camino!!!!…….how exciting…….this time the Portuguese Coastal Camino, which unbeknown to me went up the street of my apartment!! “Oh this is fantastic”, I thought, and I couldn’t resist following the yellow arrows as I just knew they would take me to the cathedral, because the little yellow Camino way markers always do.

The cathedral was lovely. Smaller than Lisbon but much more ornate. Lots of Azulejo tiles, a nice view from the top of the tower and a lovely gold alter, more like the ones I am used to seeing in the Catholic cathedrals of Spain and Italy. It was so much prettier than Lisbon’s and worth a visit.

I then wanted to visit the iconic bridge for which Porto is famous, but I got distracted by the train station of Sao Bento so went inside. I’ve never quite seen a train station like it, it was so pretty, all decorated with old Azulejo tiles from 1916 by ceramic artist Jorge Colaco. It was sort of strange to see the juxtaposition between the old station and the modern electronic arrivals and departures board.

I made my way through the streets to the iconic bridge that spans the River Douro. This bridge appears on all the photographs of Porto and is called the Ponte Dom Luis I. It was designed by Theophil Seyrig, a German engineer and his business partner Gustave Eiffel. The similarities in the structure with those of the Eiffel Tower are evident as it towers above the river like a huge iron Meccano set. It is a double deck bridge, the top level carrying the trams of the metro system, and it links Porto with Vila Nova de Gaia on the other side of the river where all the port lodges are situated, which was where I was heading.

You can walk across both levels of the bridge and it’s good to do both. It is so high on the top deck but you get the most fantastic views of Porto from the top. You don’t see much of the bridge though from the top deck and to really appreciate that you need to walk on the bottom deck and look up at the huge structure. It is such a feat of engineering and even better at night all lit up.

On the Porto side of the bridge is the beautiful riverside walkway, Cais da Ribeira. It is lined by all brightly coloured houses and tabernas all tumbling down the hillside and is so photogenic. It looks even nicer from the Vila Nova de Gaia side of the river looking back across. It’s the perfect spot for a stroll, drink or ice cream at any time of day or evening. It’s here where you will see some of the old Rabelo boats moored. These are the traditional, wooden, Portuguese cargo boats used for the transportation of port wine up and down the river, until the arrival of the train in the late 19th century.

I was walking down the Cais de Ribeira, and across the bridge, on my way to a very important appointment in Vila Nova de Gaia, on the other side of the river. Porto is well known for the production of port wine or simply, port. Port is a fortified wine which has to be produced from grapes grown and processed in the demarcated Douro region, which is the area straddling the Douro river as it travels inland from Porto. Port has been produced here since the early 18th century by large shippers or producers of port wine who owned ‘Quintas’ along the sides of the valley. A Quinta, I suppose you would say is like a vineyard. It consists of a huge farmhouse surrounded by fields stretching as far as the eye can see, along the banks of the river Douro where the grapes are grown and processed. The most powerful shipping and producing families at the time were, and to some extent still are, British. Names like Graham’s, Taylor’s and Cockburn’s are still prevalent along the valley and have been since the first trade deals were set up between Britain and Portugal, when we shipped our port back across to Britain in exchange for shipping textiles and cod from Britain to Portugal.

My appointment was at 3pm at Graham’s Port Lodge, promising me a tour around the premises, into the cellars and a tasting session to explain all about the different types of port and their production. All the port lodges are on the other side of the river in Vila Nova de Gaia, and Graham’s is the furthest walk, around 30 minutes. I was told it was worth the extra walk and I would get to see most of Vila Nova de Gaia on the way, which in itself was supposed to be really pretty. It’s often at those times when you are wandering aimlessly, that you come across something quite good. On my way to Graham’s, over the other side of the river, I came across the ‘Half Rabbit’, a giant sculpture of rubbish and trash, a critique of society’s wastefulness and its consequences for the natural environment. It’s by Portuguese artist Bordallo II. It wraps the corner of a building with one half painted and the other unpainted. It is made of street signs, plastic containers, cans, wire and all sorts of rubbish and it does make you think about all the waste we produce and where it ends up.

Eventually, after wandering I got to Graham’s, on the top of the hillside, a white Quinta with lovely views over Porto and the river. The guide was really knowledgeable and the visit was fascinating. I went down into the cellars, learnt about white port, tawny port and ruby port, about the different methods of production, different barrels and materials, storage and age. I got the full family history of the Symington family, who now own Graham’s as well as Cockburn’s, Dows and many other small producers. Then I had a dilemma, did I want to taste ruby or tawny port? Well the answer was I wanted to taste both! And I’m on holiday so I did. What I did not realise was that you got three of each and the glasses were quite big! You got a standard port, an older or crusted one and then a very old vintage, of each type. So that was 6 big glasses of port. So what can I tell you? They do all taste different, I definitely prefer ruby to tawny, it has a warmer feeling when you drink it, is smoother and reminds me of Christmas. The very old vintage ruby tasted best, but it would do, it was the most expensive! Tawny is nice, but in my opinion (I’d probably get shot for saying this in Portugal) it tastes similar to a supermarket sherry. And beyond that I can’t tell you much more, because after all six glasses my lips and teeth had gone purple and I felt quite fuzzy! It was a good afternoon and is a must do, to tour a port lodge while you are in Porto.

The following day I had arranged an exciting day out. I wanted to explore the Douro valley itself and see the iconic views I’ve seen in my National Geographic traveller magazine. So I’d booked myself on a small tour up the valley. A coach was to take me so far and then I was to transfer to a boat to go further up the valley on the river. During the day we would stop at two Portuguese Quintas. One producing just port, and the other producing a small amount of port but mainly wine. There were to be tours and tastings at each, as well as a tour up the river. The weather was not great, but it could have been much worse, and although a little cool, the sun did keep coming out and I had my raincoat to keep the wind out. We made for the town of Pinhao on the banks of the river, and the views were just as beautiful as on the pictures. Quintas and vineyards as far as the eye could see, all along the banks of the river.

We made out way to Quinta de Sao Luiz. Here they produce port for C.N. Kopke, Portugal’s oldest port producer. I had a tour around the cellars, tasted some more port and learnt about their production process, which was on a much smaller scale than Graham’s. They are a quite a small Quinta compared to others, but their selling point is their position and the quintessential view that they have over the Douro, just stunning!

Then our guide drove us to the second Quinta of the day where they were preparing us a traditional Portuguese meat stew for lunch, with more wine of course. This was Quinta Santa Julia and this Quinta specialises in wine production and had some of the prettiest oak and chestnut aging barrels. There was another tour, another tasting and a most delicious traditional lunch with guess what………..as much wine as you wanted! Remembering my fuzzy head of the day before, and the impending bus trip back without a pee stop, I behaved myself remarkably well and didn’t have too many! The traditional stew of meat, vegetables and pasta in a sort of broth was delicious. It was a very long 10 hour day trip but very much worthwhile, I enjoyed it lots and it was nice that it was only quite a small group.

The following day was my final day and I had a few more things to see in Porto that I hadn’t visited. The first was a book shop which is supposed to be one of the prettiest in the world, the Livraria Lello. Now I am known for entering a book shop and coming out hours later, and not just a few hours. I love, love, love a book shop! The good thing about bookshops at home now are that a lot of them realise there are people like me who like to browse and they have now opened coffee shops inside the bookshops. I love coffee and cake too so if I get inside a bookshop with a coffee shop in it I could be in there all day. Anyway, I found the bookshop and believe me it is not just a bookshop, it is a work of art. It was designed by Xavier Esteves and has a beautiful Neo Gothic and Art Nouveau exterior. Inside it just takes your breath away. There is a lot of wood, stained glass, and an amazing bright red spiral staircase. They say that JK Rowling was inspired by this bookshop when she wrote Harry Potter and you can see why, it is quite magical inside.

The only downside is that because it is quite small they have had to make entry to it ticketable to keep the numbers manageable. So you do have to pay a small fee to get in. You reserve a ticket online and then get a time at which to turn up, which means you are not queuing long. The ticket is not expensive and you can redeem the ticket cost against a book, which of course I was going to get, because if I go inside a bookshop I very rarely come out without a book! Once inside you can stay as long as you want and it does get less crowded when inside because a lot of the visitors don’t have that much interest in books, they want a quick selfie with the staircase and then off they go. Quite sad I guess but there you go, the world would be quite tiresome if we were all the same wouldn’t it.

There are books in all languages and the bookshelves are just heaving with books. It is amazing. I don’t know if you have read Carlos Ruiz Zafon ‘The Shadow of the Wind’, but basically I felt like Daniel in the Cemetery of Forgotten Books. There is something quite magical and special about it all, wandering around this labyrinth of books. What did I buy………..I bought a classic short novella from 1952 by Nobel Prize in Literature winner, Ernest Hemingway, entitled ‘The Old Man and the Sea’. I’ve not read it before but I’ve been meaning to. There’s usually a message in Hemingway’s work and apparently this one is about hope, being determined and never giving up, the conflict between desire and weakness…………so a tale of life in general really! So given that I have a marathon coming up I thought I might learn a thing or two from it, ‘The Old Lady and the Marathon’ does not have quite the same ring to it, but I shall have that in mind as I read.

Given I had spent so long in the bookshop, I had to rush through town to see the final two sites I wanted to see. The first was the Igreja and Torre dos Clerigos, a really ornate church alongside a tower which was once the tallest building in Portugal. There are 225 steps to the top of the tower if you did not see enough of Porto from the top of the bridge.

The Church of Sao Francisco is also worth a visit. Very elaborate inside and then underneath the church is a very eerie and bizarre maze of catacombs where the remains of some of the Franciscan order are buried, some of who you can see below through a grate in the floor. Very macabre.

My final visit was to the very beautiful Palacio da Bolsa. This was the former Portuguese Stock Exchange Building and was built to encourage wealthy traders to invest in the city. The interior is so extravagant and clearly shows that there were obscene amounts of money in 19th century Portugal due to its many trading alliances with other countries.

Then it was a quick dash back to the apartment to get ready for dinner. But on the way, this is where I met Benji, and I just have to show you him. He was sat in a doorway looking very bored and just had ‘fuss me’ written all over his face. The store was a little boutique and the owner (Benji’s human mum) was clearly very busy inside and did not have much time for Benji. There was a little sign at the side of him that said “My name is Benji”. Well you could just tell that Benji liked cuddles and our eyes met and that was that………..Benji liked cuddles and I like cuddling dogs so it was like a match made in heaven.

By now I was really late and had to get in the shower and get ready at the speed of lightening for the ‘last supper’. This is the nickname I give to the very special meal I have on the last night of any trip abroad where I treat myself to a really, really nice dinner. So where did I go. Well I had spotted that the bar I called into for the Pinxtos on the first night had a very nice looking restaurant down in the cellar, so I had booked myself a table. It was not a Portuguese restaurant it was Basque. I thought it a little unusual finding a Basque restaurant in Porto but it is part of a chain who have a few Basque restaurants in key cities throughout the world. It was founded by two Basque brothers. Now I love food and wine from that area, having walked though it a couple of times over the last few summers. The restaurant was called Sagardi, which I’m not sure but I think it translates as apple cider, and if you get the chance to try food from this area do, it’s delicious. What did I have? It was a difficult decision as I could have eaten everything off the menu.

To start I had a traditional grilled ‘Txistorra’ which was like a twirl of sausage made with sausage from Orio in the Basque country, a little town I actually walked through this summer. For anyone from the UK it looks a little bit like our Cumberland Sausage but it’s smaller and the sausage is more spicy , a little like chorizo but at the same time different, it’s so very much nicer, finer in texture and not as fatty.

Then for main course it had to be Farmhouse Pork Ribs. They were superb, and on a lovely bed of creamy potatoes with some vegetables. The remnants of my plate told the story of just how much I enjoyed them. All this was washed down with my favourite Basque wine.

I wasn’t having dessert, but then I read the dessert menu, saw someone’s dessert on the next table, and quickly changed my mind. I had Goxua. I’ve not had it before but I liked it. It was a layer of a type of sponge, a layer of a whipped creamy middle, more sponge and then a caramelised custard layer on the top…….divine! And just because I’m greedy, and it was my last night, I had a little glass of a Basque liqueur to finish…….Licor de Sargadoz Zapiain.

So if you come across one of their restaurants, or indeed any other Basque restaurant that sources it’s products from the region, I recommend you try it, because the food is really wholesome, homely and good. If it’s cooked to perfection like this was, it is just the best.

So that’s your guide to Porto, as a 7am flight beckoned the next morning and I did not have time to squeeze anything else in. It’s another city I’d definitely tell you to visit. I’m back in the UK now, all wrapped up for winter. Next flights booked for late winter, so there will be more foreign adventures then, but in the meantime I’ve got all sorts of other little things to share: the great custard tart debate and bake off; a recipe to share; some Christmas things, but they will all have to wait because if I stay laid here in my bath robe, in my post race state, any longer, I might just find myself unable to move at all.😄

I’m back! I’ve been on a lovely week long escape to Portugal – Lisbon and Porto to be precise ………… and I loved them both. So I’ll share a little bit about what were the highlights of each.

I’ve been back a couple of weeks actually, but I’ve been a busy bee for a few weeks. Well, not the first week back……..the first week back I was just grumpy! I don’t deal with the first week back from holiday very well, even more so at this time of year. I don’t like cold, damp, wet, an hour less of daylight……..I just want to hibernate. However, I perked up after hearing the first rendition of ‘Jingle Bells’. Yes, that’s right, in Primary School we have to start rehearsing for Christmas at the end of October! And…………I love Christmas. So this week I’ve been Christmasifying, if that’s a word. I’ve baked my Christmas cake, so it’s got over a month to mature as I slowly drown it in brandy, and done a few more things ready for that time of year when I almost spontaneously combust with excitement waiting for the big man in the red suit! Because, this year, as always, I’ve been a good girl, and this year may be the year he brings me a present…….you never know!

I’ve been doing quite a bit of rehearsing too as I’m singing this Christmas. I’ve sung since being small and until around 5 years ago I sung at quite a high level. I couldn’t maintain it though, at that level, and do all the other things I wanted to do in my life, like support my boys in the last few years of high school like I wanted to. The commitment to rehearsal time was just too much. So now I pick and choose what I do and I always get a couple of calls before Christmas to try and drag me out of retirement, so this year I thought, yes, I’ll do a couple of concerts and I’m really quite enjoying it as there is no pressure and singing just makes you feel good, try it in the morning in the shower!

Anyway, I digress, ……… Lisbon, my first stop. I’ll tell you about Porto in a separate post in due course, because there is so much to tell you about each, and I found them completely different to each other. Both excellent for a city break, but for different reasons.

I got a late afternoon flight from Manchester to Lisbon, so it was dark when I got there. The airport is quite close to the city centre so I hopped in a taxi and it was really cheap at around 8 euros. Normally I just make my own way on public transport but it was 9pm, in a city I’ve not been to before, no idea where I was going, so I took the safe option.

When I visit a city I like to get a feel for the city, culture and way of life there, and try and fit in a bit. Even though my red hair, pale skin and freckles blow my cover immediately as the woman from England! A city break is different to a beach holiday. I’ve been to Portugal around five times before but always to the Algarve for a sun holiday. On a city break I prefer not to stay in a fancy hotel. The last thing I want to be, is stuck with a load of British and westerners, complaining and moaning about slow service, how it’s not like at home, and how they’ve ordered a white coffee and they’ve been given an espresso with a drop of milk in, which is not what they wanted. I just find some people so rude and I get really irritated with them…………if you want everything to be like at home……………. and you don’t want it to be Portuguese…………..then stay at home! Simple.

So in true Yorkshire Girl city break style, I just rented an Airbnb apartment from the lovely Lisbon natives Rita and Juan, right in the middle of the old town district of Alfama, which is the moorish quarter. It is the oldest quarter in Lisbon, and second oldest quarter in Europe. It is mainly pedestrian in the very centre, where my apartment was, with very narrow cobbled streets and falling down buildings. It is where a lot of the locals still live and where traditions such as Fado (more on that in a minute) are still practiced. The area was just as I imagined it would be, and I loved it.

I’d heard such mixed reviews about Lisbon. I did not know what to expect. Half of my friends said you’ll love it! The other half said they did not like it, “It’s absolutely filthy, dirty with graffiti everywhere”, they said. But the latter came from my friends, as much as I love them, who are in the five star hotel brigade who still to this day cannot understand why on earth anyone would walk 500 miles across Spain carrying their own luggage when they could have been sipping cocktails by a pool……….I am still an absolute enigma to them and I think I always will be. The half who know me well, got it spot on……..yes Lisbon is filthy in places, it’s falling apart in others, the Alfama is dark, dingy, a little bit seedy and ghetto like……….and it was perfect!

Rita had given me the self check in details and told me not to go to a tourist trap to listen to Fado, “You won’t need to, just open the window, someone will be singing it somewhere!”, she said. What is Fado then? Well, it’s a style of music that has been traced back to at least 1820 in Lisbon. It’s quite mournful and melancholic, often about longing or loss. The lyrics, although I don’t understand them, I’m told are usually about seafaring or a life of poverty. It is of such cultural importance that in 2011, UNESCO added it to their list of items of Intangible Cultural Heritage. It consists of usually just one singer, male or female, accompanied by a Portuguese guitar or viola. So the first thing I did when I got into the apartment was to throw the window open wide and peer out over the washing line down the dark alleyway……………..imagine my delight when I heard this, my background music for the next three nights!

I was also very hungry when I arrived, and fortunately like most places in mainland Europe you can get food late into the evening. I’d spotted a little Tasca at the end of the alley which Rita said was good. A Tasca is a very small restaurant just preparing local dishes…….think checked table cloths and jugs of wine and beer. So I ventured out to stop my tummy rumbling and get my first taste of Portugal. What did I have?…….. I had a speciality called ‘Bacalhau a Bras’. It is a Portuguese dish which is very simple. It is shredded salt cod, onions and thinly chopped potatoes. They are fried and bound together with scrambled eggs and then garnished with parsley and black olives. I recommend it, it’s delicious.

I was tired after travelling, so did not set my alarm, and woke up quite late the next day. The first thing that was needed was some breakfast and I realised I had been in Portugal for 12 hours and had not had a proper Pastel de Nata (Portuguese custard tart), which I adore. The first thing I need to do when I visit anywhere is find out where the nearest good cake shop or pastelaria is, because in Europe you can eat cake for breakfast! And as if by magic, I was just around the corner from ‘Alfama Doce’, the amazing family run local Alfama pastelaria. Not being able to decide between a Pastel de Nata or a sweet brioche type bread with icing sugar and coconut on the top I thought it perfectly acceptable to have both! Amazing! Two cakes and a coffee with milk for 3 euros. So if you are in Alfama ever, definitely seek them out rather than going to one of the big 2 chains who turn Pastel de Natas out by the thousand and charge a fortune to hand them over to you in a fancy box.

Then it was time for a little wander around the Alfama area. Narrow streets, pastel coloured houses tumbling down the hillside and lots of washing drying, Monday must be wash day! I have a thing about old doors too and there were lots of doors which looked like they’d seen many years of comings and goings.

One of the main modes of transport in Lisbon is still its tram system which serves most of the city. There are some newer trams in the more modern areas but the famous Number 28 tram trundles up the main hill at the side of the Alfama district to the miradouro or view point at the top of the hill. It’s a little colourful yellow tram with people packed together like sardines. That’s one thing I noticed about Lisbon, it’s so colourful! Nice bright colours everywhere, you can’t fail to be uplifted by its brightness. And because it’s so hilly, there are miradouros and viewpoints everywhere, all of them giving you a different perspective of the city.

One other thing you will notice as you are wandering around are the Azulejos. These are painted, glazed ceramic tiles found mainly in Portugal and Spain. You can get them in many colours but traditionally they are blue and white. They are found everywhere. Inside and outside, on everything from churches and palaces, to railway stations and ordinary houses. They usually depict a scene from some historical or cultural event, but some of them are just patterned and Arabic in style. They really are pretty.

Then it was on past the Church of Saint Engratia (now the National Pantheon), which looks very impressive from the outside, and down the hill to the Cathedral of Lisbon or Se as it is known. I needed a proper coffee en-route and I can recommend Copenhagen Coffee Lab next to Saint Engratia for a very good cup of coffee.

The cathedral is far from the best I have seen in Europe. It’s worth a quick look but it’s quite plain inside. The best parts are the beautiful rose window and the view over the city from the top of the tower. It’s quite a climb but my fear of heights was overcome by my desire to see the view!

By now I’m hungry…………again…………so it’s time for another local speciality…….Pasteis de Bacalhau or Bolhinos de Bacalhau. They are a salt cod fritter or deep fried ball of potato, salt cod, eggs, parsley and onion. You can have them with or without melted Serra da Estrella cheese in the middle and they are typically eaten as street food, in the hand with a glass of white port accompanying them. So that was lunch sorted, a Bolinho de Bacalhau, with cheese and with port!

Then I thought I’d have a wander down to the tram stop and catch the tram out to the Belem area of the city. On the way I spotted a beautiful piece of street art of a very charismatic looking lady which intrigued me. I like a bit of well done street art. I think this is what some people term grafitti, and yes it’s everywhere, but some of it is beautiful. ‘I wonder who she is?’ I thought. Her name was on the painting…..Argentina Santos….and a quick search revealed that she was a very famous Fado singer, one of the greatest. She was born in 1924 in Lisbon, and also died there aged 95 in 2019. She was the proprietor of one of the most well known fado taverns in Alfama.

So I hopped on the tram and arrived 20 minutes later on the outskirts of Lisbon in Belem. There is not too much there and it’s a nice calming retreat after the hustle and bustle of the city. There is a Gothic Monastery, which I wasn’t bothered about looking at, but there are two buildings or monuments which I had come to see. The first was the Tower of Belem. This is a beautifully carved fort built around 1515 which sits in the estuary of the Tagus River. It was a fortified tower designed to protect Lisbon from attack as well as being the point of arrival and departure for Portugal’s seagoing explorers. It is definitely worth a tram ride.

A short walk away is The Monument of the Discoveries, completed in 1960. This huge and impressive monument, sited at the point where ships set sail to India and the Orient in the Age of Discovery, is shaped like a huge sail, flanked by 33 explorers, navigators, scientists, cartographers, artists, monarchs and missionaries who were prominent in the Portuguese Age of Discovery. The explorer at the head of the sail is Henry the Navigator.

By now I’m tired, but I need food before my bed. After I got off the tram I paid a quick visit to the Ribeira Food Market in Lisbon. It’s ok if you want a quick meal and are too tired to check out where to go. It follows the same principal as a lot of these city food markets. Lots and lots of tables in the middle and a perimeter of food stalls selling food from around the world. It’s ok, but not fantastic compared to some I’ve visited in other cities. It’s been bought out and is being run by Time Out Group. I just found it a bit of a tourist trap, a little less authentic than I would have liked it to be and overpriced for what was on offer.

The following day I was up much earlier, but unfortunately the sun wasn’t. After a lovely sunny first day, day two was very overcast with showers. It was also very cold in my opinion. Yes, 10 degrees warmer than at home, but other than when I’m having a midlife moment, I’m always cold. I hadn’t packed appropriately and just had a denim jacket so my advice if you go at the end of October would be to take some warmer clothes and layers. But, not to worry, after having my obligatory Pastel de Nata for breakfast I spotted Zara………always there when you need it! So I went in wearing a denim jacket and came out warm, with a lovely thick cardigan adorned with pearly bobbles. Another word of advice if you have young male offspring, it’s probably best not to take it too personally when they feel the need to impart their opinion on what you look like. After sending them my daily update and photos, and thinking I looked ok, I was a little crestfallen to learn that I’d been walking around Lisbon all day looking “like a Christmas tree” and being “too old to be wearing a pair of Nike Cortez”. Oh well, not to worry, age is but a number and it’s almost Christmas!

First stop in the newer part of town………the main square or Praca do Comercio. Right on the bank of the river, in front of the harbour, it is the most important square. It has the must have monuments of any large city, a man on a horse, in this case King Joao I, a large triumphal arch and in a less prominent position, Superman, who had he been discovered earlier, would have negated the need for King Joao I and would have saved the city from any of its past plights.

There are also no end of fountains in this part of Lisbon and lots of other quite grand and pretty squares.

Then I spotted rather an interesting contraption which turned out to be the Elevador de Santa Justa. It’s a very nice looking, ornate, iron, Neo-Gothic vertical elevator opened in 1899 to take passengers up to the Chiado district higher up the hill. From the back of it at the top is a metal bridge/walkway. Originally steam powered it was converted to electric at the beginning of the 20th century.

A little bit further along the street I found an interesting looking shop with some rather intriguing looking people crammed inside and outside. The majority were well dressed, elderly men, downing shots of alcohol……..but it was only 11:30am. The shop looked so old, with a little sign above the door that read Ginjinha Sem Rival. It’s basically one of Lisbon’s oldest Ginjinha bars, opened in 1890 and still run by the same family. Here they serve shots of Ginja to old men who have nothing to do all day except drink shots, play cards and talk very loudly, which I thought was quite a good idea for retirement. 😄 I learnt that Ginja is a Portuguese liqueur made by infusing Morello cherries with alcohol and adding sugar, cloves and cinnamon. It’s quite strong at up to 24% ABV normally. It comes served with a cherry in the glass. Now I love cherries, I love a tipple, and I don’t like to feel I’m missing out on something so in I squeezed, looking a bit out of place, for my shot! Now at 1 Euro a shot and being just as delicious as I expected I may have had more than one and I would most definitely tell you to come here on your trip to Lisbon.

By now it is feeding time again, and I had my best meal of all of those I had in Lisbon, and it was so inexpensive. It might not sound that good, but I recommend you visit here and try for yourself as it is so much better than I will make it sound. Lisbon is all about fish! You can smell sardines on the grill everywhere. In addition, all around Lisbon they have small stores completely devoted to tinned and canned fish. Any tinned fish……….tuna, squid, sardines, mackerel, octopus, trout. You name it they have it. It could be in the tin on its own with oil, or it may be infused with something else like a herb, spice, garlic etc. It’s worth going just to admire the tins………they are beautiful and some of them are real works of art. I wouldn’t want to open the tin, I’d have a little cupboard with them all on display! There is one store on the very colourful ‘Pink Street’ in Lisbon called ‘Sol e Pesca’. This one is special, because it has a few tables and chairs inside and you can order the fish to eat there and then. They are also licenced so you can have a nice cold beer or glass of wine with it too.

I might not be making this sound very nice but trust me, it’s not like the tuna that you get in a tin in the UK. I’m not sure what our food canning process does to get rid of the taste of fish but honestly if you have a tin of tuna in Portugal it will be nothing like you have tasted at home in the UK. It will actually taste of tuna! They will serve it to you plain, out of the tin with whatever it is infused with in the tin, or they have a menu where they do a few simple things with the contents of the tin to make it into more of a meal. I went for tinned Octopus with garlic infused olive oil. It came in a dish, garnished with chives and flat leaf parsley and some slices of crusty fresh bread. Quite simply it was delicious!! I also tried some tuna with grilled red peppers and that was almost as good as the Octopus.

After my feeding stop I needed to be at the top of the hill in the Bairro Alto area, but not to worry as the tinned fish shop is not too far from the Bica Funicular. There are a few funiculars in Lisbon but this one is really pretty. It ascends one of Lisbon’s steepest little streets and joins two of the main streets cutting through the city.

I had a little wander back through the streets because I wanted to get to the Alfama area for sunset. The reason being that my legs were tired, and I had read that tucked down one of the backstreets was the Hotel Memmo, which has a rooftop cocktail bar with an outstanding view over the rooftops of the Alfama area. It said it was best to go in the late afternoon, as the sun sets, as it reflects off all the colourful buildings. I found it! It’s quite a posh hotel, but you don’t have to be staying there to have a drink. If you just ask nicely at reception the very nice man behind the desk will show you where to go and get you a table. Because every girl needs a cocktail or two from time to time!

I chose a lovely table overlooking the very small infinity pool, because the swallows were swooping down and drinking out of the pool. It was lovely, I love watching birds. As the light changed, all the buildings and the sky changed colour with tinges of pink and orange. I had a good hour and a half just sat, relaxing, resting and contemplating, and tried a couple of cocktails from the menu with some nibbles. One of the cocktails was a Caipirinha and I think it might just be my new favourite……..I’d definitely put it above the Mojito in my top 5 as I absolutely love the main ingredient Cachaca, made with distilled sugar cane juice. But it might not knock the Mezcal or Tequila Paloma off the top spot because I might like Tequila just a little bit more. Perhaps I just need to try more to make my mind up. 😝 By the time it got dark it was quite cold, so I wandered (well, it might have been more of a little wobble) back to my abode, for my through the window Fado concert as I had to be up early the following morning to check out before my onward journey to Porto.

The following morning it was raining heavily, but my train wasn’t until the afternoon. “What am I going to do?”, I thought. I needed something indoors, a museum or something as it wasn’t just a bit of rain, it was torrential. Had it been sunny I could well have gone back to Memmo for a morning of cocktails and sunbathing. Rita had said I could leave by cabin suitcase in the apartment until the afternoon so I decided to go to ‘The Museu Nacional do Azulejo’ or in English, The National Tile Museum. That sounds so boring you might be thinking………but it wasn’t, it was really good. It is housed in the Madre de Deus Convent, founded in 1509 and has displays of Azulejo tiles dating from the 15th century to the present day. The setting itself is really beautiful too, in the convent with lots of cloisters, arches and gardens. It’s just a really nice peaceful relaxing place to be, and out of the rain. There are traditional blue and white tiles depicting historical scenes, lovely colourful patterned tiles that reminded me of the Alhambra in Granada, right to more modern Azulejos with Mickey Mouse on them.

I spent a good morning in there before I left to collect my luggage and make my way to the train station. With me having a week off work it seemed silly flying back from Lisbon after three days when I still had another four days of holiday left. I worked out that I could get a train to Porto, 3 hours further north, close to the border with Spain, and then fly back to the UK direct from Porto to Manchester three days later. So that’s what I did. I’d recommend the train transfer between the two cities. The trains are really efficient. It’s just short of 3 hours on the fast train from Lisbon Oriente station. It is a direct train and only makes one other stop on the way. If you book early using the CP Portuguese national railway app you can get a first class ticket for just a few euros more than standard, so I did that and got a comfy reclining seat to read my book for 3 hours, a charging point and a tea trolley……what more can a girl want! I think the ticket was around 30 euros, which is much less than we would pay in the UK for a first class 3 hour train journey. While you’ve made the effort to get to Portugal, it’s definitely a good idea to see both cities.

I’ll tell you about Porto in a separate post when I’ve had time to sort my photos because there is so much to tell you about there too and it is very different to Lisbon. In fact, if I had to choose which I liked best out of the two, as much as I loved Lisbon, for me Porto won hands down. So I’ll be back soon to tell you about boats, bridges, more tiles, what has to be the best and prettiest bookshop in the world, how I inadvertently ended up back on the Camino, had more amazing food, saw the most bizarre baby Jesus I’ve ever seen, went on a little mini cruise down the Douro valley, drunk far too much alcohol, including that much port at a tasting that my lips and teeth turned purple, and how I fell in love with Benji (he’s a dog!). Adios for now………..or perhaps that should be Adeus!

An update on the adventures of the orange rucksack and I, now I’ve made it through the past few weeks in one piece! I’m looking happy on my photo……why am I looking happy…….I’m in the mountains of course, adventuring and not getting lost!

I’ve spent the last few weekends in the British Lake District again, and I have to share some photos of what you know I consider to be the most beautiful place in England. If you ever get the chance to visit, you must go! I haven’t always felt this way about the Lake District. I’ve only really appreciated it as I’ve got older. I remember going when I was younger, when all you want is excitement, and and thinking “Gosh, this is so boring!” It’s only as you get older, and you long to get away from it, that you really start to appreciate it. Mountains, water, clouds, silence, wilderness, lovely people, never ending places to explore and good food. The perfect combination. And of course, I needed to practice my navigation from my recent course because I’m still cross with myself for not completing the orienteering task! I can’t let it go!😂

I don’t normally go for two weekends in succession but there was a reason for it. I was going up anyway, because I was running in the Ullswater 10k on the Sunday, so I thought I’d make it a full weekend and go up on Saturday too.

Then a rather unexpected turn of events occurred. The running club really wanted to enter a ladies team in the British Fell Running Relay Championships 2023, in addition to two men’s teams, the weekend after my Ullswater race. They have not entered a ladies team for a number of years. I said if they were short I would be a substitute, because even though I’m one of the golden oldies of the club, in my mind I’m Eliud Kipchoge!😂 My saying is……………you’ve got to be in it the win it! I volunteered to go as a supporter and be both cheerleader and official team cake baker. So that was the deal until about a week and a half before the championships when I got the message that said, “Please can you run, we are one down?”

My first thought was, “You’ve got to be joking!” surely there is someone else in the club that can take this one on that’s a couple of decades younger than 52 and a bit faster. But I was told “No, you’ll be fine, we haven’t got a hope of winning anything we just want to go for a good fell running day out! No pressure, so you’ll be amazing.” So I excitedly agreed to take part, and just told them to let me know which leg I was running. “Leg 2 with Helen”, was the reply.

Well to cut a long story short “Holy Shit” is what I actually thought. Never in my life have I actually lost so much sleep about an event and woke up dreaming and sweating in the middle of the night thinking about it. It’s run as a relay with four legs. Leg 1 was a fully flagged 4.6km and 470m of ascent, Leg 3 (run as a pair) was a navigational leg of 10km with 705m of ascent, Leg 4 was a part flagged 6.9km and 560m of ascent …………….and guess what……………..Leg 2 (run as a pair) was 12.6km with 1030m of ascent. Not to worry I thought, I’ve absolutely got this….our esteemed leader and race organiser knows what he’s doing and he’s obviously put me on that leg for a reason, I’ll just give it my best shot.

The maps were released a couple of weeks in advance for all but the navigation leg so I had a cunning plan. On the Saturday, before the Ullswater 10k, I would have a steady walk around Leg 2 just to familiarise myself. So the Friday night before was spent with a cup of tea, compass, bar of chocolate and my map………..I know how to rock and roll on a Friday night! The directions for Leg 2 said ‘This is a tough test of all-round fell running ability, runners should have suitable prior experience before setting of on this one!” And lets not forget this is the British Championships………..full of elite runners from age 17. So a bit of a baptism of fire for my first proper fell run at 52 years old, a couple of weeks after I’ve learnt how to hold my compass the right way up!

Saturday came and off I set with my orange rucksack, a friend for moral support, my compass bearings, my picnic and a lot of enthusiasm, which is me all over.

Well what a beautiful 12.6km route. I’m a trail runner and not really a fell runner. Is there a difference you say? Yes, a big one! When you trail run you don’t go up as high. You tend to run on hills not mountains and you almost always run on trails and paths. With fell you don’t run on paths or trails all of the time you take a compass bearing and run whichever way is quickest and easiest to get you between two points and you will do much more ascent and descent, it’s much, much harder and I’m sort of out of my comfort zone here, but I like that. I’m fine walking in this terrain, I love it, but running is completely different. We don’t have too many official ‘mountains’ in the UK, defined as big hills over 610 metres above sea level, but the majority are in the Lake District and this Leg 2 route took in some beautiful ones.

I set off from the beautiful little village of Braithwaite, 108m above sea level, on a glorious autumn morning with the sun peeping through a moody sky. First big hill, Outerside, at 568m it narrowly misses out on being a mountain. The Lake District is one area in the UK which is well known for having all the seasons in one day and this was one of those days. The heavens opened at that point with a beautiful rainbow and an hour of heavy rain. The views were just superb and I was really enjoying it.

Well, I was enjoying it until I got to Eel Crag. At 839 meters this is most definitely a mountain. I checked my compass bearings for the Leg 2 route and something did not seem right. According to my bearings it looked as though rather than taking the path, the race route was taking us on a vertical scramble all the way up the face of the crag. I could have cried as I don’t like heights. But I’m absolutely not one to be defeated so off I went up the face on all fours while chuntering under my breath all sorts of expletives about the course not being runnable and questioning the route choice. My able assistant said, “Just stand on that ledge and turn around and look at the view!”…………… I might have ‘lost it’ at that point. I’m hovering 200 meters above the ground on a small piece of slippery rock being asked to look at the view. I was convinced the view would look exactly the same from the top so I declined and carried on.

But the view did not look as good from the top because it started hail stoning, with snow in the air, and the cloud came in………yes, frozen balls of ice, being blown into my face in gusting wind. By this point I’m starting to lose my enthusiasm a little, but fortunately the storm passed over as quickly as my tantrum and I located the trig point. I clung onto it for a while to prevent myself being blown over while I commenced the search in my rucksack for my hat. Yes, that’s another thing………my hair! Goodness, it’s got a complete mind of it’s own. I’m seriously thinking of having all my curls cut off because when I’m adventuring my hair is on a completely different adventure all of it’s own, and it’s not normally to the same place as me.

Eel Crag was conquered, its descent was followed by another ascent onto the next mountain, Sail, at 773m, most definitely another mountain. It’s a beautiful ridge walk across to Sail and a lot more runnable than Eel Crag. It was an uneventful climb up, and then all the way down the other side. When you look back the descent off Sail looks beautiful, like a snake slithering down the side of the mountain.

Sail was descended and it was then up another, Causey Pike, at 637m it is another mountain. By now I’m getting a bit tired, my quads are screaming at me and I’m thinking this is all well and good walking it, but I’ve got to run it next weekend, not saunter around like Dora for a few hours with a picnic. Up Causey Pike, down again and then up and down the final big hill of Barrow at 455 m. So in total that’s up and down 3 mountains and 2 big hills. 12.6km and 1030m of ups and 1030m of downs. I got to the end looking exhausted and a bit wild, like I’ve been caught in a storm…………of wait a minute………I have!!!! . The race briefing says the winners will be in in 1 hour and 15 minutes…………………. I check my watch………….it’s just taken me 6.5 hours to walk it!! 😂

Then I suddenly remember I’ve got a 10k competitive race to run in the morning and I can hardly walk now. Anyway to cut a long story short I found a lovely Italian, filled up with pasta, had a nice hot soak in the bath (obviously feeling sorry for myself as I only get a bath when I’m feeling in pain or poorly)……and got up the next morning as fresh as a daisy and raring to go!!

I love this race, the Ullswater 10k. It’s nice and undulating and you get a boat ride from the bottom of the lake to the start at the top, which first thing on a Sunday makes you glad to be alive. It’s gorgeous. It took me a couple of kilometres to get into this one but I amazed myself. I was starting getting a bit dejected with my marathon training these last few weeks because I’m not a road runner, I really don’t like it. I like to be stomping through the fields, woods, mountains, streams and mud. Anyway, my belief that I will be running down the Champs Elysees like Paula Radcliffe, must be paying off as I was quite pleased to be 7.5 minutes quicker than last year and 2nd placed V50 lady. So all in all it was a weekend well spent in a beautiful location.

It was then just seven days to go to the British Championships and I was getting really nervous, well and truly out of my comfort zone and in full realisation that I’m really going to struggle. At this point I’m keeping quiet from my lovely Leg 2 partner Helen that I’ve walked the Leg and it’s the route from hell and will involve us climbing up a near vertical face for fifteen minutes, it’s pointless two of us worrying. I’m normally a really good sleeper but for three nights I woke around 4am dreaming about the impending race. Then the e-mail came though from our club organiser about a survival bag being necessary……….”Have you got one?” he asked. I joyfully replied “No, but I’m bringing a coffee and walnut cake!” And I wasn’t being flippant or joking……………..I’m sorry…………….but if I’m going to die I’d rather die cold than hungry!! This is me we are talking about, on the list of essential kit the cake comes well above the survival bag! Looking on the positive side of things there’s a chance I’ll survive without the bag but if I pull this one off there’s not a hope in hell’s chance I’ll survive without cake!

The fateful weekend arrives, and so does storm Babet, with half the UK under water! They’ll call it off or instigate the bad weather route I thought hopefully. But, no, this is the British Fell Running Championships….fell runners are supposed to be tough and up for anything! I packed my running pack with the essential kit I had to carry: full waterproofs (top and bottom with taped seams), survival bag, compass, map, hat, gloves, whistle and emergency food…………….yes, I’ve got to carry all that as well as get myself around. But I took extra special care not to forget the cake.

I slept quite well because I think I’d exhausted myself worrying about it. The following morning was a little dull, the cloud was down and it was very claggy and damp but there was no wind and rain. I was buzzing and raring to go. The race headquarters were in a field on a farm at the bottom of the mountain. The team tent was already erected when I arrived, complete with cake tin much to everyone’s delight. Racing got underway for Leg 1 and Helen and I made our way to the holding pen ready for the arrival of Valentina back from Leg 1 to tag us so we could set off. Then it was ready, steady, go, and off we went. Whilst theoretically, on the road, we are well matched runners, Helen has so much more experience than me on the fell, and the benefit of being 10 years younger, and I was clung onto the the back of her all the way around. It didn’t start too well, which did not worry me because I always get stronger and it takes me a good few miles to get into my stride. By mountain number one I was in the emergency food, but it worked, and after a sudden intake of sugar I felt much better. Conditions were good until we got to the scramble. Navigationally we only made one mistake. Cloud was down and thick on the top of Eel Crag but it was the only compass bearing we had to take, the rest of the route was clear.

We chipped away at it one mountain at a time. We chatted about all sorts (when we could breathe) to take away the pain, everything from running to hormone patches were covered, and yes, we completed it and finished relatively unscathed in 2 hours and 52 minutes. A major improvement on my 6.5 hours the week before but well behind the leading men’s team who finished in 1.25 hours! But hey, this was to find the fastest and best fell runners in Britain, the 52 year old who prioritises cake over a survival bag was never going to be on the podium! So, we came 234th out of 247 teams.🤣But we did it!! This was an extremely tough course to find the champions of the country. Only 8 other V40 female teams teams entered. All six of our team made it around and we had a fantastic Saturday, full of running and cake, and there may have been a little beer after the running too! I am so lucky to be part of such a lovely team and so proud of our efforts on Saturday.

I think they are all wanting a re-run next year. But being 10 years older than most of them I think I am going to volunteer my services as team cake maker for next year and let someone younger take my place! It’s not just the running it’s the recovery, two days after and my quads are absolutely trashed from those downhills I’m sliding down the banister at home and I have had to take the elevator in the shopping centre because I can’t get down the steps.

So here’s to team mates, mountains, cake, good times and believing you can achieve the impossible! So after being told by my mother, complete with wagging finger, that I need to start acting my age and stop running around like a teenager (gosh I love her), I’m off to Portugal now for a lovely little rest to reflect on a day I don’t think I’ll ever forget, and what I think will be the high of my running journey as I contemplate my running semi-retirement.😂 But not just yet.

I’ve not had a lot of time to write recently. There have been lots of navigational adventures of Dora the Explorer (me) and the orange rucksack, two drop offs at University to undertake, a call up for the running club ladies team for next Saturday’s 2023 British Fell Running Relay Championships (wish me luck because I’ll need it and I’m getting very nervous), and a PB and 2nd place V50 female this last weekend in the Lake District at the Ullswater 10k (which turned out to be 11.5k!). Oh, and not to forget my full time job Monday to Friday. I’ve just had an hour chilling with my latest book – ‘Red Comet – The Short Life and Blazing Art of Sylvia Plath’ – its quite a sad book and I don’t often read biographies but I was intrigued as to why Sylvia Plath was buried in a very simple grave in a Yorkshire churchyard near me. I’m also currently sat staring at a roll of 20 metres of fabric which I’m supposed to be transforming into two full length pairs of curtains after having the decorator in last week (I love making soft furnishings), but I have not the faintest clue when I’m going to find time to make them. I’ve now got to pack my little carry on case ready for immediately after the British fell running championships when I’m disappearing off to Lisbon and Porto to indulge in port, sardines and pastel de nata as I need a little break. And then I promise I’ll do a review of Lisbon/Porto and tell you all about the adventures of the last few weeks.

So this is a quick post on something I saw the other weekend which really literally made me laugh out loud. It concerns two of my favourite things…….the annual village agricultural show, which I need to share with you as it’s fantastic, and my beloved Yorkshire!

You might not find it that funny at all, in fact some of you might be highly offended by it. Now, a disclaimer, I would like to say that any comments made are not the opinions of the myself. I’m a bit of an anything goes, not that easily offended sort of person, who’s happy for everyone to be who they want to be if makes them happy. But this really did make me laugh so much.

Saturday came, and it was the day of the local agricultural show. This is a huge day for the village. It’s in its 150th year and is the biggest local event in the calendar. Invariably it rains, but this year the sun was out and it was glorious so I thought I’d pop along. Two main things feature in the show……..animals and food so it’s a resounding ‘yes’ from me.

Because it’s such an agricultural, rural area where I live the aim of the show is to celebrate local farmers, growers, traditions and culture. Farmers travel from around the country to compete in hundreds of categories. The animals at the show include all sorts of breeds of cattle, sheep, goats, pigs and poultry. In addition to animals, there are sheep dog handling competitions, craft tents showcasing local handywork like knitting, needlework, beekeeping and baking. There are local games and sports, and in addition to the animals, perhaps the biggest draw for many are the vegetable and cut flower growing championships. There are hundreds of prizes to be won and thousands of people descend on the village to attend.

It’s easily a full day out and I like it because you can walk around all the tents and talk and pet all the animals. I like to watch the cattle judging ……….they take it very seriously! There’s show jumping, sheep sheering……you name it, it’s there.

In addition to being able to pet all the animals, there’s lots of local food to eat too (after disinfecting my hands of course!). Where else can I pet the animals, have a ride on a real tractor, eat ice cream, drink cider, eat delicious local lamb and have a milkshake made with local milk! I did feel a bit sick after all that but I’m blaming that on the tractor. Oh and don’t forget the brass band tent (another Yorkshire thing)……….see if you can guess the tune!

All in all a lovely day. It all got too much for Wendy the pig who fell to sleep in her pen (thankfully after judging) and by the end of it I was pretty exhausted too.

But the thing that made me laugh, well………..here goes, I’ll tell you what it was. Down South they think of us Northerners as being a bit odd. Perhaps a little bit provincial and stuck in a world gone by. On a UK map I viewed recently, which had been re-labelled as a joke, Yorkshire had been relabelled ‘depressing shithole full of people who own ferrets’. Now hang on a minute………..I beg to differ! I think it’s just a misunderstanding…………and it’s funny that Yorkshire is full of Southerners on holiday in the summer! Hopefully, from my previous posts, you will see that Yorkshire is not a ‘shithole’, it’s actually quite beautiful. I don’t own a ferret, and I think I’m quite ‘with it’, not stuck in a world gone by. However, I have a confession to make………….I did spend 5 years in my 20’s living on the ‘dark side’ just outside London as an adopted Southerner. I have never been allowed to forget this fact, and I don’t think I will ever fully be accepted back into the fold and totally forgiven by my Yorkshire kin for my temporary defection.

Anyway, my observation at the show does go a little way to supporting that Southern view that Northerners are stuck in their ways and are a little bit provincial. We’ve not quite moved into the area of equality of the sexes in Yorkshire. I’ve mentioned before that I’m not fully there myself. I am a bit of a traditionalist…….give me a gentleman any day that tells you you look nice, opens a door for you and pulls your chair out when he takes you to dinner. By the way, don’t come to Yorkshire if you are looking for one of those though, they are not the typical traits of the Yorkshireman. And I’m more than happy to do the domestic ‘looking after’. I am very much a looker afterer and a feeder of all that walk through my door. However, what I spied at the show did well and truly convince me that we’ve not moved on that much from the 19th century in Yorkshire when it comes to equality and gender. You can see why the Southerners think we are stuck in a bygone age. The grand Victoria Sandwich cake ‘bake off’ competition at the show was quite clearly labelled ‘Women Only’. Yes, we are still segregating by gender in Yorkshire and at first glance I thought we were only allowing women to enter the baking competition! 😂

So I’m sorry all you gents out there who think you can bake a mean Victoria Sandwich…….you are not allowed to enter this competition because only women bake Victoria Sandwich cakes in Yorkshire. I looked……..and I looked again…….surely it can’t say that I thought, as I literally laughed out loud. But it did! It didn’t sit quite right with me. So what are we saying ladies……. men can’t bake, they bake differently, or they bake better and we don’t want the competition. Then, someone pointed out to me that there was a separate Victoria Sandwich competition around the other side of the table for the men!

So I went and had a little look and there it was, clearly labelled ‘Men Only’. Now being part Southerner I know that really women and men should not be segregated in competition unless one will have clear advantage over the other in terms of physical strength, stamina and physique. But I’m not sure where that comes in in the baking of a Victoria Sandwich. Is the advantage in the beating of the butter with the sugar, the adding of the eggs or what ?!?

Anyway, after undertaking my own bit of judging, I’m not sure what you think from the photos but I have to say that for me the men won hands down. The entries from the ladies were not well done enough for me and looked a bit thin. The men’s looked much more robust, golden brown with a lovely dusting of icing sugar on the top. So well done Yorkshire men of Penistone, I think the ladies are just scared of the competition. Now for anyone that does not identify as man or women I have absolutely no idea which competition you enter. It may be a few years before we catch up with the rest of the world in terms of gender equality so you may have to settle for an entry in the ‘Create a Vegetable Character’ or ‘Mr Potato Head’ competition as that’s a free for all and not segregated by gender. Still, after looking at the entries for that I’m not sure that one is fair either, I think the ‘Gruffalo’ was robbed of first place.

So there you have it, your guide to the local agricultural show and gender equality in Yorkshire. An excellent day out. I’m generally usually proud to be a Yorkshire girl but sometimes I do have to have a little laugh and a cringe with embarrassment and disbelief at Yorkshireness and this was one of those moments!

Yes, that’s what I’m affectionately known as at home but this week I am exceptionally proud of myself and I’m going to tell you why………..I have all the gear and I now know what to do with it!! Henry the Navigator has absolutely nothing on me! 😊That might be a slight over exaggeration but I’ve come a long way in two days.

But first, a little quote for you, well, I’ll give you a few throughout this post, from an inspirational man who spoke some very poignant lines. You know, one of those people whose work you read and you just think, “You are so right!” The human being in question is Walter Bonatti and if you don’t know him he was an Italian mountaineer, alpinist, explorer and writer.

He said, “The human being lives in the city, eats without hunger and drinks without thirst, gets tired without the body struggling, chasing its own time without ever reaching it. He is an imprisoned being, a prison without borders from which it is almost impossible to escape. But some human beings sometimes need to recover their lives, to find a high road again. Not everyone tries, few succeed.”

How true is that! Now don’t misunderstand me……..I love a city and a city break, and I like my job most of the time (possibly not on a Monday morning)……..but this quote explains exactly why I need to escape into nature and particularly mountains on a very frequent basis. I’m trying to escape from everything that binds me, work, home…., find a high road, recover myself and my life, and feel free again.

However, the slight problem being, I’m ‘all the gear and no idea’ I wander around like ‘dizzy daydream’ because I’m a bit of a daydreamer, head in the clouds, living in my own dream world. I get lost in IKEA, never mind on a mountain. I am constrained by my lack of navigational ability and my absolute fear of being lost in low lying cloud, so I am a bit limited as to where I can go and at what time of year if I’m walking alone, as I am not safe. I’m not allowed to enter any fell running races that require compulsory navigational experience and I have all sorts of little plans about some more remote long distance mountainous walking next summer so I thought it was about time I face this fear and sort myself out and get practicing.

So, I’ve been away for a whole weekend, on my own, to the mountainous Lake District on an accredited navigational course! No longer is my shiny Silva compass a pretty accessory with which to adorn my new orange rucksack. No longer is my fold out waterproof map of the Lake District an accessory on which to sit on on wet grass to eat my picnic. I know what to do with both!!! And I am so proud of myself as this was not easy and I’m not going to lie and tell you it was the best weekend ever as believe me it had it lows which I shall explain in a moment.

I applied for the course and was completely truthful in describing my previous experience i.e. I have no idea what any parts of the compass are or which way to hold it, and my Ordinance Survey map reading experience is limited to knowing a few of the symbols, those being the cross for a church, blue telephone box for a telephone and blue tankard for the pub……….well what else do you need!?!😂 I did an Ordinance Survey online quiz and scored an abysmal 5 out of 20.

The course looked perfect. In the beautiful Elterwater valley at the Youth Hostel, aimed navigators of all levels, with lots of time practicing on the mountains and fells, and more importantly at 21:30pm each evening it actually said on the course itinerary, ‘Pub’. “This is the course for me”, I thought!

I drove there straight from work on Friday to arrive for the evening start. There were 29 of us, but lots of instructors. So as promised on the application form I was placed into my very small group, with fellow beginners Martha and Jack, and our lovely instructor Kevin. Now Kevin had the patience of a saint, and boy did he need it! Kevin spent an hour and a half explaining the basics of the compass and the map. I think he had got the measure of me by the time we convened at the pub and I was wondering why my red needle did not change direction when I turned my compass. He explained very patiently that the red needle is the needle that points north and no matter how many time I twizzled myself the map and the compass around that needle was always going to point the same way……..north! Funnily enough, I had no problem whatsoever finding the pub.

Anyway, everyone was really lovely including my fellow dormitory room mates Hannah, Anna, Kirsty, Kim and Christine. Together we made a room of six and we all had a lot in common, including running, and we got on great. There was a even split of men and women on the course and funnily enough a number of the women were all women of a certain age, kids getting older and suddenly realising we have a life to live and a world to explore, if only we could read a map and use a compass!

All fully acquainted with one another we made an early start on Saturday, a beautiful sunny day, with a pre-breakfast run at 7am. After breakfast we split off into our small groups, picked up our hostel packed lunch and headed off into the mountains with our instructor.

We learnt all sorts: how to set the map; how to pace our steps and use Naismith’s rule to work out how long it would take us to cover a certain distance on the map; how to take a compass bearing; how to identify features on a map; how to use certain features as attack points to safely lead us to the place we are heading for; how to plan a route in small steps in poor visibility; how to look at the contours of a map and visualise the lay of the land in 3 dimensions.

By the afternoon Kevin was setting us little individual challenges by pointing to a knoll on the map or a feature and asking us to individually lead the group to it. I loved it and I was feeling very smug with how much I had understood and could put into practice in such a short space of time.

My enthusiasm was only slightly dampened when at 3pm Kevin announced we make our way to the start point for the ‘solo’ navigation exercise! Aaaarrrrghhh………..I didn’t know there was going to be a test! Thank goodness I brought the bright orange rucksack, I knew the colour choice would come in handy in a search and rescue operation! So we set off at timed intervals. We were handed a map with ten checkpoints marked on it. The checkpoints were things like a sheepfold, knoll or sometimes just a boulder in a very precise location, the bearings and navigation had to be spot on to find them and then we had to find our own way back to the hostel. I finished the course, finding all 10 checkpoints, so had a lovely wander back, even finding time to snap some pictures of the lovely views and a selfie with my new favourite toy/rucksack accessory……….my compass!

Dinner finished, I was just thinking about having a post curry and apple crumble snooze when it was announced that we needed to get all togged up again in out gear for a night navigation excercise…….in the dark! The only saving grace was that we were in pairs. So off I trotted with the lovely Martha into the very, very dark fells to hunt for another 5 checkpoints. This was hard and the bearings and map reading had to be spot on as there is no light pollution out there at all so you could only see as far as your headtorch shone. My second pair of trainers that day had their baptism of bog water and sheep shit as you just could not see where you were walking. We all managed just one drink in the pub and then we were off to bed…….we were exhausted…..12 full hours on the fells.

Now Sunday was when it all fell apart, well it did for me! Sunday was the very big 10km solo navigation exercise. There were 10 check points to find in some really obscure locations and you were set off alone with a good gap between you and the next person and the route went quite a good few miles out over the remote Silver How fell at 395m. The very slight problem for me was that the weather had turned and was bad. It was raining quite heavily and the cloud base was down below 300m. So that meant visibility up there was very poor with some heavy rain and windy gusts. I’m not afraid to say I was absolutely terrified as I do have a huge fear of being lost in cloud.

Why am I telling you this. Well for a start, people think I’m brave and I want to tell you that absolutely everyone has something that they are scared of. If they say they haven’t then they are lying. I’m absolutely not brave when it comes to the things I am scared of! I’m just as scared witless as everyone else. This is where the great Walter Bonatti comes in again. His quote kept going round and round in my head as I fell apart and completely unravelled sat on a rock. In this case he’s talking about climbing, but it can just as easily be applied to walking in the mountains in poor visibility: “Climbing is not a battle with the elements, nor against the law of gravity. It’s a battle against oneself. The mountains taught me not to cheat, to be honest with myself and with what I was doing. It is to conquer fear that one becomes a climber. The climber experiences life to its extreme. A climber is not crazy. He is not out to get himself killed. He knows what life is worth. He is in love with living.“

Off I set into the fog and was feeling ok when I reached checkpoint one. It had gone quite smoothly, my bearings were accurate and I didn’t spend too much time rustling in the undergrowth when I found it. Checkpoint 2 was quite a way away so I decided on a two step approach with visibility being poor. I spotted a large marshy area on the map 300 meters away and thought I would head for that and when I hit it take another bearing to the checkpoint which should be on the south west side of a prominent knoll. I took the bearing and set off confidently and then the path just disappeared. From that point on my confidence just slowly eroded. Sure of my bearing I seemed to be wading through bracken up a very steep ascent for ages. I reached the ridgeline and was confident it was left as that’s what my bearing said. I came across Jack who shot off to the right as he thought it was that way. I stuck to my decision and went left to stumble across the marsh and took another bearing to the knoll. I eventually got to the knoll and found the flag hidden in the undergrowth but by that time I had completely unravelled. I was shaking like a leaf and I was so scared because I just felt so lost as visibility was so poor. I knew where I was on the map because I was by the checkpoint but I had just frozen, and to go out further onto the fell into the mist was just terrifying. Before we had set off the instructors had told us to make sure we had our whistles and had gone through the six short blast at one minute interval lecture for summoning help, which in itself scared me to death.

I took a bearing to checkpoint 3 and set off but the visibility just got poorer and poorer and I froze. So what did I do………well just to prove I’m human and not at all brave I’ll be completely honest with you and tell you I panicked, could not breathe properly, froze, sat down on a rock and just cried in the mist. So in addition the rain pouring down my face there were also tears and snot. I thought why on earth am I doing this on a Sunday morning when I could be curled up at home with a good book and a bar of Cadbury Fruit and Nut chocolate. I kept thinking of Walter and his quotes and that was when it all made sense. It was not a battle with the elements at all it was a battle with myself and my fear. I’m in love with living and I need to conquer that fear to be free to experience what I want to experience. I was so angry with myself. I took some deep breaths had a good cry, told myself that sitting on a rock crying was going to get me nowhere, and kept going over the quote. I was not lost, I knew exactly where I was, the fear was rational but I had the skills to find my way off the mountain safely even if I did not find the check points. I knew the village was south and I now knew which way was south by using my compass. I took a little video and a photo to prove to myself I’d been up there and it’s made me laugh already when I’ve looked at it again. Even though I’m trying to smile for the camera the colour has all drained from my face, I look dreadful, and you can hear me hyperventilating and trying to get my breathing under control.

So what did I do, I gave myself a good telling off, pulled my big girl pants up and pressed on. However, I’m not going to lie and tell you I found all 10 checkpoints. I didn’t! There were all different levels of expertise on the course from experienced and wanting to get better to the likes of myself who arrived not knowing which way up to hold my compass. I decided that I could not make it around with 100% certainty that I would not need help. From such a low starting point it was just too much too soon. I found 5 checkpoints and then safely navigated myself back to the hostel.

I’m going to be honest and tell you that I have really beaten myself up so much about not being brave enough to go and find all ten. However I was praised for making the decision to return when I did. Apparently, according to some, making the decision to quit at the right time is braver than pressing on when it might not be the right thing for you to do, even though I’m still finding it hard to accept.

Despite Sunday not going quite as well as planned I am so glad I went. I’m taking the positives from it. Bravery was being there on the course on my own in the first place. I heave learnt so much in such a short space of time and it has opened up so many new possibilities for me in terms of exploring. I’m going to be spending lots of time over the coming winter weekends drawing random crosses on maps and then seeing if I can find the locations as it’s one of those things that you need to practice over and over again to build confidence so that I am comfortable enough to wander off in poor visibility and know that my new found skills can lead me to safety. So watch this space for more adventures of the orange rucksack, the compass, and me!!!

Anyway one final Bonatti quote for you: ‘The reality is five percent of life. Man must dream to save himself.‘ So I’m going to be just fine, I’ve always been 95% dreamer!

So, what’s the message? The message is: never stop exploring, face those fears and more important than all, never stop dreaming!