The Colours Of Hebden Bridge

Walking down the street yesterday I was met with a kaleidoscope of colour. Hebden Bridge is a getting ready for Happy Valley Pride next week, and after so many monochrome days it was such a happy sight to see the colourful flags, flowers, and window displays! Here are a few photos from a mooch around town yesterday.

If you'd like to join in the festivities, you can find the full programme of  Happy Valley Pride events at the link here. There is so much going on, including The Big Day Out next Saturday, and The Pink Picnic in the park next Sunday. Hope to see you there!

The End of an Era

Although this has been an inevitable moment, I wasn't quite prepared for how I was going to feel. Mum and Dad moved out of their home yesterday, mine and my sister's childhood home. Me and my sister Katy have exchanged a few texts this week talking about how we're feeling, and I've felt a growing unease in my belly as the move date grew nearer. It feels like I'm grieving, in a way I guess I am. When I walked through the empty hall yesterday, I played so many moments over in my mind. I could hear the sounds of us inside the house, and the sounds of the house itself. The wind whistling through the gaps in the doors, the creaky second step, the sound of Dad tapping the barometer in the hall, the logs crackling in the fire, the radio in the kitchen.

I just wanted one last goodbye.

A few weeks ago, we had a day of tidying out our old bedrooms. So many memories were harboured in dusty drawers, I also spent time taking a few self portraits and some of my family too.

Memories of sitting at the dining room table waiting for our Sunday roast, an assortment of condiments in the middle, and Dad's steaming mug of cocoa at the end. If we had visitors, the table would be pulled out and the best mats retrieved from the kitchen drawer. After the roast, we used to listen to the top 40 and I'd make an attempt to tape my favourite songs holding my portable recorder up to the radio. The tapes would have the added soundtrack of Mum washing the plates in the sink, and Katy practicing her ballet steps on the wooden floor with a short sharp shush from me now and again.

I'd often look eagerly out of the lounge window waiting for friends to call. In the evenings we'd sit by the fire and play card dominoes which still is our go-to family card game. When Grandma came to visit, she'd sit on the sofa with her oversized handbag, and magically retrieve pieces of fruit and nut from its depths to give to me and Katy. Lying on the rug in front of the fire, cramming my revision, whilst the cat curled himself up on the open school book. And all those Christmases, decorating the tree in the bay window with its multi coloured lights whilst stuffing our faces with toffees and listening to Now That's What I Call Christmas on the record player.

Into the hall, where the wind would race through on a winter's evening. All those conversations with friends on the phone concocting plans for parties and shopping trips, and weekly catch up chats on a Sunday afternoon with the Grandparents.

The stairs could be particularly challenging after a night out with friends. Exaggerated quiet movements whilst trying to remember where the creaky steps were so as not alert the sleepers upstairs. Then the added obstruction of the yucca plant on the top step which did go for a tumble on one occasion.

My room. The walls once heavy with lyrics from Smash Hits, Michael Praed posters and Athena prints of crushed coke cans. The room that witnessed first kisses and Malibu drinking with friends, all to the soundtrack of the 80's.

I'd spend time looking out at the hillside from my window and dream of travelling the world. In winter, the ice would form inside and out and my fingernails would scrape at the crystal shards on the window. The room became a shrine to Laura Ashley when I left for college.

Katy's room would always be so tidy, everything had its place. Little trinkets, teddy bears and the pictures of ballerinas on the wall.

Mum and Dad's room was the room with the long mirror and the plug in heater, and we'd get dressed for school in here on the coldest winter days. Christmas Day mornings we'd all be perched on the bed together unwrapping gifts. I remember the smell of Oil of Olay as Mum would be applying a dab from a new bottle.

From my place at the dining room table I could see what we call the club house. Within these small walls I formed a number of different clubs from U.F.O. spotting, to saving animals, to the Secret Agents' Club. All had their own badges, membership fees and rules. We joke now as my sister was only ever a half member, I have since apologised.

We actually did once nurse a poorly hedgehog back to health which I think we were all surprised about. Now there are faded stickers on the wall and the ivy has taken over both inside and out.

We didn't often go into the garage, this was Dad's space. The smell of oil and wood would hit you as the door lifted. This is where he went to fettle with tools, chop logs, and just get out of the house I'm sure.

This was a familiar sight as we came home from school. Mum cooking in the kitchen, the smell of a cake baking in the oven as we opened the back door.

It's so hard to say goodbye. One of my Instagram friends commented yesterday that these houses get into the deepest bits of our souls. I've felt a bit daft about how emotional I've been, but they were important years spent there.

The silver birch stands on the front lawn, although I'm not sure if the new owners will keep it, I think they want a bit more light in the lounge. Dad planted it for my 21st birthday. We've watched it grow through the seasons, and it's home to so many birds as they come and feed from the seeds hanging in its branches. It's the thought of the tree not being there that hurts the most.

But it is time to say goodbye. W've been through so much in that house and we've had such happy days. I hope the new owners can feel that as they begin to make number 8 their home too.

North Coast 500 - Day 7 & Coming Home.

I've had a bit of a break from my Scottish blog to share a couple of family shoots, and so as not to bombard you with too many travel photos. Remember the old slideshows certain family members used to make you sit through?! Although I have had a couple of requests to do just this with my North Coast 500 series - maybe if there are refreshments this would make it more tempting?

So, to day 7, my last official day of the North Coast 500 route and day 8, my journey from Loch Ness down to the Bridge of Allan and then home. On day 7 I woke up early to a sunny Dornoch day and a wonderful breakfast at No 9 Guest House.

I hadn't actually planned too much for the day, and I have to say I set off with a heavy heart, knowing that this was the last day of the adventure. I drove slowly around Dornoch Firth and stopped for a few minutes at Bonar Bridge.

The traffic was busy, and I felt I'd hit a popular route, there were signs to various destinations of interest and roadside shopping stop offs. This A road felt a lifetime away from all the single tracks driving through mountains from just a few days ago. I hit the Cromarty Firth, peppered with oil rigs and signs of industry.

I wanted to get away from the main road and prolong my journey which was hurtling towards the end point of Inverness. I'd seen a few photos of Rogie Falls before I set off and decided to take a trip. It was the perfect spot to visit after a morning of not feeling quite myself. Tall trees and the crashing waterfalls carved deep into the rock.

There is a peninsula just above Inverness called The Black Isle. This is where I headed for next. I had circled Munlochy on my map as somewhere I wanted to visit. Here is The Clootie Well - a strange left over from an ancient pagan tradition. Folk would bring belongings to the well as an offering, sometimes in the shape of clothes or rags, in the hope that a family member's illness would be cured. The tradition has been updated as I spotted a Santa hat and a hi viz jacket. It was a strange, eerie place. The twigs cracked underfoot and echoed round the trees. 

I drove a little further onto The Black Isle. At this point I was feeling just a little jaded, and knowing I hadn't booked anywhere to stay for the night, I was keen to try and find somewhere a little further south than Inverness. I drove to Avoch Bay and Chanonry Point first to see if I could spot any dolphins.

And then I turned to head south. I hit Inverness at 5pm on a Sunday eve. In the traffic, I turned to see drivers left and right, many coming back from weekend's away with family. Sleeping kids in the back with heads pressed to the window and streamline roof racks perched on top like tortoise shells. 'You are entering Inverness' the sign proclaimed. That was it, I'd finished. I wanted to feel something. For the first few moments I sat tapping my fingers on the steering wheel to the radio, the traffic flow edging slowly towards a roundabout ahead. And then it hit me as I drove out of the town along the banks of Loch Ness. For this journey, I had pushed through my travel anxiety and although panic attacks had grumbled once or twice, I'd silenced them. Through the darkness of the beginning of the year, I'd pulled myself up and done something that for a long time had not seemed achievable. I felt something I hadn't felt for a while, I felt proud. I pulled over and just sat in the car for a few moments and took this photo. In the grand scheme of things, it's nothing special, but it'll always mean something to me.

I drove down to Fort Augustus on the southern tip of the loch and found a great place to stay. I had a beer and face-timed Suze, it was good to celebrate albeit over screens!

The next morning I had a quick walk to the tip of the loch before setting off.

As I still had a number of miles to travel before reaching home, I decided to break my journey up by staying with my cousins again in the Bridge of Allan. The journey there on a blue sky day was quite spectacular.

Travelling through The Cairngorms was beautiful.

After coming through the mountains, I stopped off for a lovely lunch with our friend Carol and her beautiful pooch Carter. They showed me some of the local sights.

And then onto a peaceful eve with my cousin and family. We sat round the dinner table over a glass of fizz, and chatted about the last few days. After a great night's sleep, I climbed into the car, packing my overnight bags up for the last time, for now, and tapped in the directions home into the Sat Nav. I felt excited to be returning home to Suzi.

A few hours later, I pulled up onto the cobbles on our street, shiny from a recent shower. When I walked into the lounge, Suze had left a treat for me on the table, a pecan pie, still warm. And propped up, one of our favourite pieces of art (by the wonderful Angela Smyth). It reads 'a suitcase built for adventure...' and written underneath 'the Thrills of the Unknown are Waiting for You.'

Thanks to everyone who followed my journey.  It was great to get your messages when I was away, it felt like you came along too. If you'd like to read the series of blogs, here are the links to each day:

Day 1 - Dornie to Big Sand

Day 2 - Big Sand to Inchnadamph

Day 3 - Inchnadamph to Talmine

Day 4 - Talmine to Armadale

Day 5 - Armadale to Thrumster

Day 6 - Thrumster to Dornoch

Me and Suzi are talking about the possibility of doing a longer trip together next year, we've just started doing some research. We'd love to hear where you've been, if you have any recommendations, or where you'd like to have an adventure!