I love my busy London life for all the reasons everyone and anyone loves London but in the same breath it is those very same reasons, that it can get on top of you. I knew I was due a breather.
Not even an especially stunning coastline or beautiful beach, my week at home, by the sea, was perfect. I am more than sure that's got more to with my rose tinted glasses and buckets of nostalgia connected with the place as opposed to the actual place but seems fine.
Sat on the beach on a Friday morning, so smug, almost guilty, thinking about everyone at work. Time stood still:
Ice creams at dusk. Catch-ups with old pals, small town talk. Sifting through the pebbles and stones, picking out favourites, for keeps. Stolen moments with an Ex boy, driving on country roads up to the cliffs with playlists from the past. Having a little smile about the ‘Scene-y’ girls and boys getting it so wrong but trying so hard. Are we still talking about this? Same old petty disagreements with the mother bear.
Yep, a week at home, just enough before you start to remember why you upped and left in the first place. Sadly, the crisp, salty, seaside air can only mask so much.
Seems totally fine.
Seems totally fine.