Wednesday, 4 June 2014

Me, myself & I

I've always been one of those people who appreciates her own space. Eating in a restaurant alone has never phased me, when I had the time I used to love going to the cinema solo and for me the idea of going away on holiday on my own is pure bliss. I only lasted 2 months at uni in the halls of residence before I moved into a one bedroom flat on my own and I remember never feeling so at peace. 

I recall spending four nights in Cabos San Lucas on my own. I remember everyone looking at me like I was an absolute lunatic when I explained my plans to them the day before I flew out. "But it's Mexico, the guys are scary" they exclaimed. "But it's CABOS", others pointed out. "It's a party town. One does not go to Cabos on their own!?!" But my heart was a wee bit hurt and my brain needed to get out of town and it was what I wanted to do. And it was glorious. For five days I did nothing but lie on the beach and sip cocktails in the sun. I went to the cinema in the evenings, still tipsy from the cocktails and struggled to keep up with the subtitles. I ate dinner in the same little restaurant every night where the waiter made the Caesar salad dressing right at your table and I walked and walked and walked until I could hardly feel my feet anymore. I got good at side-stepping the slightly more intimidating Mexican men and I nibbled tortilla chips and people-watched the rich upper classes coming on and off their yachts at the marina. By the time my break was over, I had barely spoken to anyone and I hadn't even looked at the internet once. I felt amazing.

When Ava's dad took a job in the very remote village of Kinloch Rannoch, I used to adore our trips up there to visit him. In Kinloch Rannoch there is nothing. A cafe, a small shop, a grand big hotel and the most vast, beautiful expanse of water you have ever seen. For someone who is not a strong swimmer nor particularly likes boats, I have always adored being near lochs. That beautiful solitude. It has always soothed me in the most indescribable way. I've always remained adamant that I am not a creative person at all. I'm not musical, I was terrible in art class and much to Ava's derision, I am not crafty in the slightest. Yet, it's only recently I have started to realise that I am more creative than I think. My two biggest passions (cooking and writing) are both pretty creative hobbies. And maybe it's the thinker in me that sometimes longs for these natural surroundings.

Recently the desire to escape has been over-whelming. The need for water, seclusion and time alone has never been greater. To pack my camera, a good book and my comfiest jeans and just go chill the hell out on my own for a night or two. To sit outside and listen to the sound of the water lapping against the rocks. To walk for miles safe in the knowledge that a good pub with a decent single malt selection will be waiting for me at the end. To eat fresh Scottish seafood on my own, tucked away in the corner of the hotel restaurant with only my book for company. To snuggle up in sheets that I don't have to worry about changing and to eat breakfast from dishes that I don't have to worry about doing.

I'm hardly an introvert and I have never really had any problems cohabiting with boys. I adore other people's company and for a single mum I have a pretty decent social life in this amazing city that I have grown to love so much. But I think I definitely need that quiet escapism every so often. And when I don't get it, the little voice gets louder and more niggling. Until a sneaky trip to somewhere like Loch Fyne or Arran is the only way I can silence it.

And that is exactly what I plan to do.

If life could just stop being so damn busy for a single second...

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