I recently re-discovered how much I love writing travel pieces and fiction. And since I will be spending the next year or so traveling around the UK to visit my other half who is working in each corner of it, I decided to share a couple of current adventures, and a couple of old ones too. I am a mum to a (hilarious, trying, very very sweet) four year old boy. Sometimes he travels too, sometimes not. And I currently work in the media. That’s all you need to know.
I would like ‘three days away’ to be somewhere you happen across and find great writing about fascinating places or events. And I would LOVE to have other like-minded people guest blog too, creating a community of occasional travel writers.
You can get in touch, if you want…but you don’t have to.
And, at risk of being just a bit too soppy, here is Carol Ann Duffy with the last word.
Away and see an ocean suck at a boiled sun
and say to someone things I’d blush even to dream.
Slip off your dress in a high room over the harbour.
Write to me soon.
New fruits sing on the flipside of night in a market
of language, light, a tune from the chapel nearby
stopping you dead, the peach in your palm respiring.
Taste it for me.
Away and see the things that words give a name to, the flight
of syllables, wingspan stretching a noun. Test words
wherever they live; listen and touch, smell, believe.
Spell them with love.
Skedaddle. Somebody chaps at the door at a year’s end, hopeful.
Away and see who it is. Let in the new, the vivid,
horror and pity, passion, the stranger holding the future.
Ask him his name.
Nothing’s the same as anything else. Away and see
for yourself. Walk. Take a boat till land reappears,
altered forever, ringing its bells, alive. Go on. G’on. G’on.
Away and see.