This was my runaway trip. I needed to find somewhere that I could get away from work, from people, from everything. I picked London, booked my flight on April 30 and left on May 11, telling hardly anyone.
I spent a couple of days at the beginning of the trip in Cardiff. I’ve never been there before so I thought I’d see something new. It was nice enough and the people there were extremely friendly. Managed to get a 4-bed dorm in a hostel to myself. I stayed overnight in Bath after that. It’s a beautiful city but the abbey and roman baths were surrounded by French tweenagers and just the sheer amount of youths kind of put me off.
Excited to get back to London, I met up with my cousin who lives there and was the only family (other than my brother) that I told about the trip. I explained a bit about the reasons I was there and in his very particular way, he made me feel a bit better and definitely less judged. He’s curmudgeonly but a real gem and hanging out with him was an excellent idea.
While my cousin was working I explored the city during the day. I walked for miles and miles because I was feeling so restless. I took breaks to sit in various parks, hung out by the Thames, climbed Wren’s monument to the great fire, saw a Damien Hirst work, and ate lots of tiny pork pies from Marks & Spencer. On the weekend my cousin and I took the train to Eastbourne and did a hike along the Seven Sisters cliffs. It took about 7 hours and was stunning. Well worth the trek.
I saw so much of London this time that I’ve never seen before. I also learned a few things about myself: I need to be comfortable when I go home at night, and the most alone I ever feel is in a room full of people I don’t know were the main things. As much as this time in my life sucks, at least I have those nuggets and some nice memories to look back on fondly. 12 months ago