Watching the World Go By

You never really have visions of travelling the world until you're standing still. 

As a day-dreamer and mindless thinker, it never takes long for my mind to wander. 

I'm lying in my nan's partner's garden, looking up at this: 

A massive fir tree brimming with pinecones and a sky flushed with wispy clouds. I could be anywhere.  With the sun, the warmth, looking up into a neutral evening sky. I could be anywhere. 

When I was younger, I always dreamed that I would travel. As I visioned my life as a warden on a nature reserve, I saw Khaled setting rhinos free in Africa. 

In your childhood, the world is your mind's oyster. When you're older, it really does become what you make of it: free to explore, free to use, free to exploit. And so, as I grew up, I became afraid of losing those childhood dreams. My mind would take me anywhere in an instant, and I'd be there. In the middle of a jungle, on a beach, in the Serengeti. One minute in my room, the next abroad. I soon began to realise that if anything I dreamed of was going to happen, I would have to make it: I'd have to plan, find the money, book the time off work. Moreover, (my current fear) I would need to find a job that would give me the flexibility of travel. 

Suddenly, talking to my nan, I had an overwhelming desire to travel. Tomorrow I take my flight home. And whilst I get through plates of food without a second thought, watch films with rapt attention, take toilet stops with only the thought that I'm wasting precious TV/ reading/ sudoku time and snooze freely without concern for my poor snoring, sleep talking and dribbling habits disturbing others, I will pass countless countries. One of which is India - my promised land. 

I once heard someone remark that England is figuratively seen to many as 'the promised land'. Jobs, housing, good quality of life and a relatively safe environment put it streaks ahead of other war torn and developing areas of the world. It gives, as the nickname may suggest, a lot of hope and promise. The vision I see of India is different. 

India had such a profound mental impact on my life. I developed my soul (I felt) and experienced something so vastly different. India is my promised land for the soul. 

As a 12 year old, if I had to pick the places that I'd love to visit, India would have been one, simply because of the sheer size and population. It's like China: I pick it as a place I want to visit because it's big on the map. It stands out. 

When I write my bucket list (and yes, I have to write it multiple times a year), travel comes up quite a lot. It usually reads: 

No. 483 - live in Australia

No. 484 - visit China

No. 485 - visit Japan

There are so many more corners of the globe that I want to see not just the big, almost continental countries. But the small places as well. 

So you might have guessed, I've made another little list. 

7 countries I just HAVE to visit: 

1. The Tioman Islands 

I had never heard about these islands before about a year ago. And since then, I haven't stopped seeing them on the Internet. 

My friend went one time and she was desperate to go back. She sold it to me and I looked at photos of boats that looked like try we're floating in mid-air, the water was so clear. There are turtle rescue service there and with limited access to Internet and public transport, it sounds like a haven for me to embark on some soul rejuvenation!! :D 

2. Borneo 

Now, this is an old one. All I've ever wanted to do, since I was young, was go to Borneo and see the orang-utans. 

As a wanna-be zookeeper, I couldn't think of anything better. But even though I've grown out of those dreams, I still had that wish engrained on my mind. 

Orang-utans are my favourites! 

3. Trinidad

There's no point knowing your roots if you don't make an attempt to engage with them. 

My mum's side of the family is from Trinidad and, although it was different when I was younger, I never had a burning desire to go. But now I realise how important it would be for me to go to my place of partial origin. 

4. Canada 

I think everywhere is Canada. When I see a picture of tall 'Christmas' trees or I see one, like the one in my nan's partner's garden, I think I'm in Canada. 

It makes me feel lovely and adventurous and I feel like I ought to go to see what it's actually like! 

5. Italy

Italia! Need I say more. The food, the people, the rides on the gondolas. And it's so close! It would be silly not to go.

6. Brazil

If the national language of Brazil was Spanish, I would already have booked my year abroad! 

I got into Brazil whilst watching An Idiot Abroad. The beaches look brilliant and the style of living even better. But it's more the dual vision that does it for me. 

I know that there's horrific poverty there, interspersed with scenes of luxury - much like India. 

It's one of those places that you can't be sure if until you go. So I'd better be off there! 

7. Australia

Well, I HAD to put this one in. Everyone wants to visit Australia, right?

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! 

The Remainder of Eden

It was such a shame that I had chosen the morning of the most beautiful day to snooze until 11. The sun was absolutely gorgeous. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the air, though not warm, still meant that you didn't have to bundle up in millions of layers and bind a scarf round your neck endless times.

This day happened also to be the day I'd reserved for completing all the weeks homework. It couldn't have been more ill-planned. Nevertheless, it was still perfect to combine some of my favourite things with some of my less favourite. 

I took my freshly prepared picnic and homework on my bike out to the common. It was absolutely BEAUTIFUL.

I'm a solitary person by nature anyway. It seems sad that sitting in the park on a bench on your own, pleases me. But it does and that's what I did.

I absolutely love days like this; when everyone comes out. People unite. Families walk together. One of the happiest sights I saw today was a father cycling on a purpose made 2 man bike with his wheelchair bound son at the front. A day out, doesn't get much better than that!

Picnic: chicken mayo sandwich, apple doughnut and mini trifle

Lovers in the corner :D

Catching up on some reading whilst I enjoy the sun!

Pinecone

 

Set up camp for watching the sun set!