Send Me On My Way

To go anywhere, you always have to leave the place before. That's the hardest part for me. 

I'm a bit of a baby. I cry pretty easily and think that my life (and the world) is ending way before its time and at the smallest of situations. 

Every time I leave Dubai I can't help myself from crying and every time I go back to Dubai from England, I am hit with a wave of sadness at leaving. It probably doesn't help that I listen to songs like Let me love you by Mario (which used to make me upset as a child) and then a repeat of the Titanic theme song will resound without my calling on it. 

But I hope this time that some Pharell Williams will get stuck in my head this time!! :D

I didn't expect to be as upset about leaving my job as I was today. I had already been reeling of letters of appreciation in my head for weeks and finally putting into action my earlier preparation was sad. 

To be truthful, I didn't think that I warranted a leaving do or even a card. I had only been working there since March and viewed myself as a bit of a rusty spoon in the grand scheme of things; I had the potential to be useful but I probably wasn't the first choice implement for dinner service. 

So when I got hugs and loads of little letter written in a card, I was over the moon. 

Cards are some of my favourite things. 

I often think of places that it would be nice to be homeless in, as though they exist! When I walk round town or visit a new place and see a dry, cosy place , I make a mental note. 

If I'm ever homeless, that's where I'll go.

I pack for this unfortunate journey in my head, thinking of what things I would take. As well as a haversack stuffed with all my money and warn clothes and blankets, the other things getting shoved in there are my favourite selection of cards that others have written to me. I'd take my 16th and 18th birthday cards from my parents and brothers, leaving cards and my mini books of notes from college in Dubai when I graduated last year. (Is it weird that I've planned this so thoroughly?) 

                                *

A couple of days ago, I spat out the most spontaneously philosophical sentence that I've ever thought of. To be honest somebody most probably had already got there before me but the concept was still novel to me and I prided myself on the fact that I had thought of it. 

I am a huge fan of the Humans of New York blog. I check it twice daily and especially in the morning to get some inspiration to kick start the day. One of the distinct photos I remember was a little girl posing in the street. She was asked: 

"What do you want to be when you're older?" 

To which she replied: 

"A person." 

Such a spontaneous nugget of her mind held such philosophical connotations for the entire human race. It encapsulated me. What is it, I thought, to be a person? Does anyone actually want to be what we now see as a person? 

It's such a conundrum! 

My auntie took me to Wimbledon last week. Everything was all a bit easy going and so when we came out the wrong exit we were unfazed to go back and correct our error. We were heading for Wimbledon station - not the one we had arrived from - and it was taking a while to walk up this hill and all through the town. 

After a while, my auntie said: 

"I hope we're going the right way." 

I replied: 

"I don't think it matters where you're going, as long as you know where you've come from."

Bam!!

I meant it as a comforting thought that f we did get lost, we could always retrace our steps and go back the way we were meant to go. 

As long as you know where you've come from. How clever of me! Ahaha! 

As I walked out of work today, my last ever shift, nothing rang more true than this statement. It didn't matter where I was going. I ought to remind myself of that. 

I know this statement isn't always true. Career-wise it's nice to know how high you can go, and probably for life, having some kind of plan is desirable. 

I have no idea where I am going now. I'm going back to Dubai, that's a given. But I what's next? I could do anything, go anywhere without another thought. I know what I've got in my back pocket: the experiences that I've learnt from work. I have the knowledge of where I've been. 

Unemployment is a scary limbo. Almost as scary as living under a bridge outside Macdonald's with your 16th birthday cards. 

I quite like spontaneity, it stops you from hindering yourself. If you have no plans, then you can accept everything. But not knowing when the next pay slip will come in when your running up a tally in rent and bills isn't something that I want to really think about. 

 

For me, it now doesn't matter where I'm going, so long as I go somewhere. I've come from a lack of experience to being accepted in a company that believed in me more so than I believed in myself. 

Nothing describes my time at work like the word: "lovely" - a word that I use all to often but that can do justice to the passion of happiness and delight. That or "sterling". 

So, no, when I find myself in a panicky rut (which I do quite often) I'll remember my own little quote: it doesn't matter where you're going, so long as you remember exactly where you came from. :D 

 

Run, run, run away Baby!

There was something so special about being back at a school sporting event at an athletics club. Seeing colours. Children screaming, ice cream vans, sun glasses and the relay. Everything about it brought back sweet sweet memories. 

As a child, I told myself that I hated sports day. It was partially true. I hated sport but yet I loved the day as a whole. No school, tanning, eating outside and a general sense of happiness. What could be better? It was like a holiday, in the temperamental English weather of a field just at the back of our school. 

I relished in the idea that I would be part of one of the activities, every year. I was disgustingly below average at everything but half decent at running. As much as I hated it, I knew that I couldn't have a sports day without joining in. I replaced injured or reluctant classmates (and never managed to live up to their expectations) and I was buzzing. I was secretly waiting for my Usain Bolt moment. When I suddenly, after no training at all, flew across the track in record time. I thought it every time. And every time I was disappointed. 

On my last sports day, in Dubai, I felt like life as I knew it was over. No more days of boosting school morale in an attempt to promote sport. None of that. Just adult life. End of story. 

Now, I don't feel like I ever get an opportunity to go back onto the athletics track. There is no need. There aren't hundreds of children anticipating their run and waiting to pick positions for sports. Just me. 

As my cousin flew round the track on her relay run, I was on the verge of needing a pee. I knew that feeling. The baton handover. When it was all up to you, and I would always need a wee. 

And then when she won, that was the proud icing on the top moment which requires such pre-planning and effort. She sat in the 1st spot, smiling. A winner. But she would have been that to me anyway, even if she hasn't won. (I, finally, understand all this parental pride!) 

I wished that I could go back to those days, however uncomfortable and embarrassing they were. I have a feeling, in another 'Olympic super-athlete moment' that I might actually be good at the hurdles. There are days when I see a nice field in the sun and just want to run and run and run and run and run. That's got to count for something. 

I'll try it. 

I'm pretty surprised with myself at the moment - wanting to do running, missing sports day, watching tennis: who am I? 

Day at Wimbledon!

Sport, as you might have gathered, isn't really my thing. Until recently.

When I saw wimbledon on the telly, everything looked the same. Everyone in white on the same pitches, hitting a ball about and then somehow, Andy Murray wins. For me, it was about as interesting as football and even less so than cleaning the floor with a toothbrush. 

But, when my cousin suggested that I come to Wimbledon, my perception suddenly changed. It wasn't about the sport that I was going. It was more about the atmosphere. Strawberries, cream, Pimm's and sunshine. That was Wimbledon. And that was a true English summer. 

So my auntie and I hopped on the train, stopped off at Sainsbury's, bought our supplies and collected our tickets. 

Now, I have no idea how to score tennis. Something about lines and shouting ''OUT!" I was excited to see the games, but I didn't really know how I would cope with the middle 'slog' when I had no idea what was going on and who was getting points. 

But, as soon as we got in there, my enthusiasm started kicking in, my cousin whispering to me the techniques and rules of play. 

My first game was the BEST! And it probably didn't help that I was watching the 3rd highest ranked player in the world: Stan Wawrinka! 

GO STAN!

 It was a brilliant game and I came this close to touching him as he left the court!

After that game, I thought that I had pretty well solidified my knowledge of tennis. I knew the rules, or so I thought. Until I was introduced to breaking serve and suddenly lost all sense of the game. I couldn't remember how may sets you had to win, or games or what gave you an ADVANTAGE point (if that's even what's it's called). 

We flitted about for a few hours afterwards, snapping shots of a topless Mahut and taking shameless selfies on Henderson Hill. 

Mahut

Shameless Selfie 

I was quite contented to just sit on the hill, eating a picnic. It seemed so surreal to watch Federer on the TV and know that he was actual a stone's throw away!

For our final game we went back to Court 2 to watch seed Jelena Jankovic lose to Kaia Kanepi! We couldn't have planned it better.

Jankovic

Kanepi

I was on a roll and walking the wrong way to the train station we came across a gold postbox - my first one! And it was Andy Murray's - an obligatory photo ensued. 

Now, I've never been to Wimbledon. In fact, I've never even really had the urge to go. But when the opportunity was thrown at me, there was no negotiating the fact that I was going! 

So, as I watched hit after hit from racket to ball, I sudden wave came over me. 

I watched the ball skid across the court. My auntie had told me that you could buy tennis balls that had been used throughout the day from a certain kiosk. She said it was a relatively cheap way to get a souvenir. 

Then it got deep. 

I realised that all the pictures I'd been snapping and any souvenirs that I would have of the day were just material. I couldn't take them to the grave. I could only have the experience. The memory. And why did I even need the memory? It would be nice, of course. But it wouldn't get me anywhere. 

What, I thought, What is experience? 

What is experience if not just being able to say: "Yep, I've done that!" 

I began to panic. Maybe I shouldn't just be in life for the experience of watching. My experiences need to be doing. And in that short moment, I made a resolve to find something that I absolutely LOVED and do it with fervent passion for the rest of my life. 

I soon knocked myself out of this trance, before it got too deep and centred around what the point of life was if we were to die. 

Apart from that slight mishap however, I had the most brilliant day and came out of it with a new drive and motivation. Sport: they say it's good for you! (In more ways than one!) 

Caroline Wozniacki (potentially???)

When the saints come marching in

Life is full of experiences and the new ones can't always compare to the old ones.

The carnival was perhaps one of the best things about coming back to the village where I lived so many of my years. It was an old experience. One of those precious ones.

As I arrived at a friend's house for the second leg of my moving houses until I finished work, 30 people were dressed in costumes and wigs. The front door was open and overflowing with people as though it was a can of beans. But the little chatter, excitement and mass of colour took me back to some place special.

It turned back the clock. Took away all the nastiness, the privatisation of individual lives and angry mob of technology. And it brought back family time, picnics, horse and carts but most importantly a massive expression of character. 

It was the latter that's my favourite. And as I sat on the lawn waiting for girls and boys adorned in colourful 'cartoon' outfits, a boy told his friend: "we're from Old Basing. Mighty, mighty Old Basing." It wasn't so much that we were mighty in the sense that we had some grand influence within the UK but we had, for one day a year, a colourful union of people who came together in hoards in the sun. And that was a very powerful statement. 

It was a shame that I couldn't be with mum and dad and my brothers on this day, but, as though in their memory, I sat on the grass banks I used to remember, and watched the parade come to me. 

Old memories are great. And then a new experience hit me: I found it slightly strange to be peeing in a port-a-loo. It wasn't for the sweltering heat but the fact that I had never actually used one. When I told myself, I found that prospect weird. Not that it should be but I had just never had an excuse to use such a toilet. And for certain I wasn't  imagining it to feel like I was riding in a car: gear stick and everything at my side. 

A port-a-loo. How novel! It took me somewhere else. I felt truly rounded by the experience. Merging old and new: how exciting! 

Ain't never had sun like this!

The Isle of Wight is just one of the most BEAUTIFUL places in the sun. And it's been a while since I've been here and it's actually been sunny!

I usually bring the rain. But not everywhere. It seems I only ever bring it to the Isle of Wight! But finally the spell has been broken and we've been able to enjoy uninterrupted days of sunshine and it's been absolutely fabulous! I even got tanned!

My camera hasn't seen daylight like this in positively AGES! It's usually substituted for my iPod but it's been so lovely for all the sunny shots!

So, as I leave the island and all the excitement of the festival behind, I thought it would be a perfect time to show case my snaps of my few days here!

NEWTOWN CREEK:

The bridge over the salt marsh

The salt marshes

Life ring in the harbour

The sun setting on a beautiful walk 

OSBOURNE HOUSE:

*Driving* my nan's car

Lillies!!!

Inside the green house 

Outside the house!

BEMBRIDGE: 

The new lifeboat station 

It didn't go very far, but nevertheless is was a skimmer!

Tide's out

Oooh! 

How to start your own blog!

On my quest to complete as much of my summer list as possible, I feel that I have given myself a head-start but putting this pointer was an ideal thing to get you all creative and productive this summer.

Number 20 of my '50 Things to do this Summer' was "Start a blog". I already have one but if you don't and you enjoy reading mine or think that you could do a better job, then let's start now!

I suppose that I could say that I write this post by popular demand. I have had a few of my friends come to me in recent days telling me that they like what I write and fancy having a go. I absolutely LOVE the fact that I can be an inspiration in this way but I'm not too good with straight advice. So I've had a little think and here's the product of my thoughts.

I'd like to give you my top tips for starting your very own blog!

Here you are: The 10 P's of blogging! (Not quite sure I chose the letter 'P' but it just happened on it's own)

Top tip no. 1: PASSION
  It wouldn't make sense to continually stab at something you know you don't like doing and neglect your strengths and talents. Needless to say, passion ought to be the reason for you to start blogging.

  But when I talk about passion, it doesn't necessarily have to be a passion for a particular subject but rather a passion for writing or having your voice heard. Mine lies with writing which is why I can nearly always find the motivation to do posts.

  So, have a think about what you're going to write but remember, don't chose something that you think other people want you to write about. Write about what you want. If you're bored with what you write, it'll show. So, keep it "you" and not only will you enjoy it more, but you'll get more people hooked!

Top tip no. 2: PRIDE
  As with above, you need to have pride about what you write. But the word "pride" stretches to further crevices than gaining a humongous ego!

  When I refer to pride, I mean it in the sense of having self-confidence and not being afraid. Before Turning Old Pages became what it is today, I had another blog in which I attempted to do what this blog has done. But after publishing 2 posts, I deleted it because I wasn't confident enough. I felt too embarrassed and didn't think people would like what I wrote. I didn't want to publish the things I'd written on Facebook because I was scared.

  I thought that I had failed and that I would never do it. But, I ran Blogger up again some months later and began what has become my biggest achievement yet!

  *N.B. The only thing I would say on this point is that I never publish anything on my blog that I am slightly nervous about.
  I've had episodes where I've re-read what I've written, shivered and felt flushed. Then after I've clicked the publish button, I've felt cautious and taken the post down.
  My Point: If you don't feel comfortable about publishing something, think once, think twice and think three hundred times. No-one is forcing you to publish anything. It's all up to you!*

Top tip no. 3: PACK IN A PUNCH
  Of course, this point really depends on the way you write. But you don't, necessarily, have to be a good writer if you want to write.

  What you need is to be quirky and have a good enthusiastic manner about how you write. On the other hand, writing as comically as Karl Pilkington simply because that's who you are, also sells.

  The main point is just to make it punchy. Re-read what you write. Do you laugh? Are you amused? Do you want to read on? Does it flow? 

  These are the things to think about when you start.

Top tip no. 4: PLANNING
  Now, sometimes my best posts are those where I haven't planned anything at all. I think of a sentence and let the flow grip me. Personally, when I plan a post I can't write it - which is why I'm not all that brilliant at article writing.

  It's probably worth thinking about what writer you are. If you need to plan, do it. If you don't, then lucky you!

Top tip no. 5: PEOPLE
  It's quite important to think of who your audience might be. That way you can tailor what you write to suit your audience, allowing them to get more enjoyment out of what you write!

  The great thing about Pages on Facebook, is that it lets you know who your main readers are, so if you're not sure, it'll let you know!

Top tip no. 6: PUNCTUALITY
  This isn't so much about teachers standing in the corridor telling you how late you are to their lesson but more about deciding when you are going to post. Deciding that makes you more aware about keeping going with your 'little' project and also lets readers know when to expect posts. If they've missed one, they can track back and realise that there are some unread gems waiting for them on your blog.

  I'm not very good at this. I post sporadically, and you can always tell when I'm on holiday from the surge of posts that hit Facebook and Blogger. But if there is one thing I would like to get better at, it's the reliability of my posts.

Top tip no. 7: PICTURES
  Now I am, like you perhaps are, a MASSIVE reader! I love books and my head spins everyday with words, words, words. One of my favourite games is scrabble and I got out - ALL. THE. TIME. - with a device upon which I can write my thoughts.

  It's unfortunate that I have a brain like a wrung sponge when it comes to remembering!

  But not everyone is so keen on words. Other people prefer pictures. At the start of this year, I tried my hardest to include a photo with every post that I do. I often put pictures up that I've taken myself but I taking other from the internet should work just as well. But after a year at uni, the last thing I want to be doing with my free time is referencing pictures!!!

  Pictures in your blog make it more likely for what you write to appeal to everyone and it catches their eye. I know I often just scroll through news articles to look at the pictures - perhaps the reason why the Daily Mail has caught me as a reader!

Top tip no. 8: PROFESSIONALISM/ PLATFORM
  When I set up my blog, Blogger was the first thing that came up in Google. So I just picked it and started my blog. It wasn't until I looked at other people's blogs that I realised that there were potentially better platforms for blogging.

  Have a think about how you want your blog to look like. This is purely for aesthetic purposes. Of course, it's what you write that really matters!

Top tip no. 9: PUBLISHING
  For me, this pointer is THE most important thing after you've sourced the creative aspect of your blog: how are you going to publish it? 

  When I set up my Facebook page and linked my Twitter account to my blog, I suddenly began to get ALOT more readers and it boosted my confidence alot. It gave me the opportunity to see that I wasn't taking a stab in the dark but allowed me to produce things that other people seemed to like based on likes and people engaging with my posts.

  Social media is an amazing tool to use for anyone, whether a business or a simple blog. Get yourself out there on the internet and you can almost expect success!

Top tip no. 10: PATIENCE
  Sometimes it's easy to get disheartened when you don't get the number of readers that you expected. But every new day presents a new opportunity to get more readers. Keep writing, publish yourself all over social media and remain patient! :D

Off you GO! GOOD LUCK!!

On The Run

I looked at my room with nostalgia. It was empty but I still couldn't be sure that I had everything with me.

With 2 suitcases, 6 bags and a rucksack, I should've been pretty certain that I had packed my all and as I took myself to the boat to head across to the Isle of Wight, everything that was with me were all my worldly goods.

When I came back from India in year 12, as well as clinging onto the obsession of becoming a Buddhist, I wanted to be able to live the simple life. When we were out there, our packs were our everything. We carried ourselves on our backs. When my 'retro' mp3 player packed up, I found other ways to entertain the desperate need for music in my head. When showers didn't come easy, I found that wet wipes were ample cleanliness and that my hair didn't look so greasy. And when I was stuck for something to do, I could write a diary, take a walk, look at the stars or cook.

I didn't lack anything. All I ever wanted, I had. And I needed no more.

So when I packed up my room, I knew how horribly materialistic I was. I had already sent one of my friends packing with 2 boxes and a great bin bag of stuff. Then I piled other boxes and bags for my other friend and still I had all the things that I was taking with me.

Everything that I had already signed away, I realised that I didn't miss. I could live without my canvas of a Buddhist figure or my docking station. My desk lamp and my full length mirror. There was so much I didn't need and yet when it was all in my room, I couldn't get rid of it! 

So as I trekked to Isle of Wight helped by numerous staff, I was displaced.

This realisation only recently hit me. 

I'm homeless. 

I have taken my worldly goods from place to place without having somewhere to call my own. I have nothing of mine in Dubai with my parents apart from a hula hoop and a pair of skates. I no longer live at uni. Nor do I live with my Nan, who stores the majority of all my other things - like books and folders. I don't live with my aunties or uncles. I don't have a place of my own. 

I live nowhere. I have no home. 

They say that 'Home is where the heart is' but when my heart is split between England, Dubai and fifty thousand dreams to travel around the world, I'm not even sure where my heart resides. There is no place I would rather be, unless with my family and friends. 

In which case, my home is in their hearts. In such a scenario, I need nothing. Nothing in my hand. Nothing on my back (though I ought to keep my clothes for dignity!). I am homeless, with a heart placed in multiple people. So, whilst it seems I have nowhere, in fact, I am everywhere. Carried along with other people and, of course, travelling around house to house throughout the year!

Homelessness, in this sense, in fact isn't scary. It's not frightening or daunting. It makes me feel like I am free. A bit of a loose canon. I don't have any ties to anything. I can move where I want. And that's something quite remarkable! So long as people will have me up in their house, I could have not 1 home but 10,000!  

#100happymoments

You can probably almost predict what's coming. Yes, I have to (once more) admit that I'm not the greatest at keeping routine.

When I started my list of 50 things to do in summer, I wanted everything that I wrote to be achievable. There's nothing like reading a list of things to do that ask you to take a wee at the top of Mount Everest or become a celebrity overnight. And so, when I wrote "Begin your #100daysofhappiness" I was under the impression that it wasn't too hard.

But, like a true geek, I researched the movement and saw that so many people were dropping out of the challenge due to lack of motivation and ability to post every single day. I actually have a friend at the moment who has solidly managed to get through over half of the challenge ... and, he's still going!

"So," I thought in all my naivety. "It can't be that hard!"

So I started and came across a couple of problems. My camera wasn't great and so all the pictures came out grainy. I stayed in various places without access to internet within the first week. And sometimes I was just happy and I couldn't explain why.

I started once. And then I started again before something made me think differently.

"What if," I mused. "What if it was 100 moments of happiness."

Well, you might be thinking,  that takes away the difficulty. 

And, yes, you would be right. But isn't it so much more rewarding to document 100 moments that make you happy rather than desperately trying to find something that could make you happy on this one day because there are some days when 500 things will make you happy! Plus, it gives me a chance to see how quickly I can complete the challenge.

So here I go ...

Moment 1: Sunshine!!!

#100happymoments