We arrived to find The Rose & Crown conveniently perched right on the market square. Entering the pub there was a busy atmosphere of locals and visitors alike relaxing away their Saturday with a few drinks and nibbles. I spotted nibbles for furry friends before realising there were numerous dogs dotted about the place, much to Q’s delight!
As we strolled past Warwick Castle and stopped to poke our heads through the iron gates and peer up at the flags above the turrets, I turned to Q and said: “Did you come here with your school when you were little?” to which he answered “Of course”.
And of course the answer was of course; who didn’t come here as a kid?! It didn’t take long to realise that whilst yes, we had both been to Warwick but at the same time we hadn’t really been here. We both had no recollection of what the town looked like and I spent the first half of our stay convinced that I came here on a night out many years ago, only to realise it was in fact Windsor that I had been.
Basically, I’m calling this my first time in Warwick. My first real time in Warwick.
With palm trees and blue seas it can be quite easy to view St Lucia as a destination for doing nothing other than plonking yourself under the sun and baking all day. The resorts are of course all geared up for doing just that and I’ve spent many an hour happily gorging on Vitamin D.
But tropical climates don’t just mean beautiful blue skies and the reason that St Lucia is such an incredibly lush island is that it rains… rather a lot. One minute you can be falling asleep on your sun lounger with the hot sun in your eyes and the next minute you’re rudely awakened by big, warm raindrops splashing down on you! The showers are usually short and sharp, and the weather in general is like a chameleon. Always changing moods.
This was my fourth trip to the island and having spent over two months there in total, along with the local knowledge of my in-laws who have lived there for a decade, I like to think that I know St Lucia pretty well by now.
Aaaah St Lucia…
This was my first ever Winter holiday, and I soon learned that they’re not at all like the Summer kind. First off, they are met with very different reactions to a trip in say July or August. No one reading this needs reminding that January and February are miserable months and that everyone unites in feeling a little glum and a lot fed up of the darkness and cold that at this point, starts to feel like it will never, ever go away.
In September 2016 Q and I realised a long-time dream and spent two unforgettable weeks in Vancouver. I have had a lifetime love for Canada despite, until this visit, having never been there, nor having any family ties with the country. Weird huh? I think it all began with watching The Raccoons as a child. I grew up being drawn to large lakes, giant trees and even bigger mountains. In my adulthood nothing has changed and I find myself (living in the flattest part of the UK, ugh!) constantly craving dramatic landscapes.
We flew out to Vancouver with crossed fingers that the city and surroundings would live up to our expectations and (spoiler alert) it ended up doing so in every way possible…. but you knew that from the title. Here’s why:
Well… we did it! After 13 years of food, fun and adventures, Q and I finally tied the knot!
I sometimes think it feels as though every Brit has some kind of tie to Cyprus; whether they’ve been themselves or know someone (who knows someone) who has moved out there. I first visited Cyprus when I was 13 years old and my parents loved it so much that we returned every year until I was all grown up and flew the nest. My parents continued to visit, toying with the idea of joining those people who’ve made the move to live there.
York is up there as one of my favourite cities in the UK. This place isn’t just steeped in history, it’s positively swimming in it. Nearly every building is old and quaint and lovely, the inner city is surrounded like by a giant stone wall, there’s ghost tours, there’s people dressed as Vikings, there’s tea shops where the staff wear frilly aprons and pubs that seem as old as time itself. Stepping into York is like stepping back in time.
On my most recent trip to Scotland (wedding planning sure is making it our second home!) the weather was less than pleasant. For most of our stay, what are usually stunning vistas over the mountains were misty veils of grey. We woke up each morning peering out from underneath the duvet, summoning the courage to brave the chill in the air. Not that it stopped us from getting out to experience what the highlands had to offer, no no: ‘The mountains are calling and I must go.” But it was on one particularly dreary day as we left the house to explore that I said, “Wow, I can’t wait to get home and sit by the fire with a glass of wine.”