Milestones

Written by Louise Lawrence: from 05 July 2024. Please scroll down to read new entries.

A Milestone at the Crossroads: Turning 50 and Turning the Page

As I sit here at the airport, surrounded by the hum of engines and the chatter of excited travelers, I can’t help but reflect on the journey that has brought me to this point. Today marks a milestone — my 50th birthday celebration in a couple of days mixed with a trip of a lifetime planned long ago. Yet, here I am, with a troubled heart, contemplating the twists and turns of the past few months.

Six weeks ago, my world was upended. A relationship of nine years disintegrated over something that should have been trivial, irrelevant even. Yet, the pain inflicted was anything but trivial. My partner, began a cycle of hurt and mistrust that chipped away at my sense of self. Their disbelief in my words, in my integrity, created a chasm that I couldn’t bridge.

Now, as I prepare to embark on this journey on an imposed solo path, he showns up at the airport, a final act of manipulation to mess with my head. I call out to still join me, as I've never once instigated the fact he couldn't come, he turns and walks away. It’s a cruel reminder of the peaks and troughs of these past weeks — moments of hope quickly dashed by waves of doubt and pain. It would be so easy to let this moment overshadow the excitement and promise of the adventure ahead. But I refuse.

Sitting at the gates, I feel a strange mix of emotions. There's the anticipation of new experiences, the thrill of stepping into the unknown. There's also the weight of unresolved hurt, the lingering confusion of a heart still healing. But amidst this turbulence, strength is growing.

This trip, planned as a celebration of life and accomplishment, has taken on a new meaning. It's no longer just about seeing new places or ticking off bucket list items. It's about reclaiming myself. For too long, I allowed my sense of worth to be tied to someone who couldn't see me, who couldn’t believe in me. This journey is my declaration of independence, my commitment to myself.

As the boarding announcement crackles over the intercom, I take a deep breath. This is my moment. It’s time to let go of the past, to stop dwelling on what could have been, and to embrace what lies ahead. It's time to find joy in the little things — the sunrise over a foreign city, the taste of an unfamiliar dish, the laughter of new friends made along the way.

In these six weeks of turmoil, I’ve discovered something invaluable: resilience. Every tear shed, every sleepless night, every moment of self-doubt has been a step toward reclaiming my strength. It’s a strength born of necessity, of understanding that I am enough on my own. That my worth is intrinsic, not dependent on anyone else's validation.

This trip is more than just a birthday celebration. It’s a marker of change, a symbol of my decision to choose myself, to prioritise my happiness and well-being. Yes, my head is still messy, and my heart is still confused. But within this chaos, there’s a growing clarity, a burgeoning strength that assures me I can face whatever comes next.

As I board the plane, I take one last look back. Not with regret, but with gratitude for the lessons learned and the strength gained. Then, with a deep breath and a hopeful heart, I turn my gaze forward, ready to embrace the adventure ahead. This is my time. My milestone. My journey.

Iceland, Reykjavik in July: An Oasis of Calm and Beauty

I'm sat on the Sculpture and Shore Walk on my way to the Northern Light View Point. It's my second day in Reykjavik, and the city is engaging. Today the salty seaweed smell carried by the cooling breeze, the bright blue skies, and the warming rays of the sun all create a serene atmosphere. It's peaceful here.

I have been walking everywhere, partly to clear my head and mind, and partly as a gesture of goodwill to my body! So therefore in just two days I have managed to discover:

Delectable food and drink at the Brass Kitchen & Bar. Nestled in the heart of Reykjavik, this place is a hidden gem. The ambiance is modern yet cozy, with a menu that tantalizes the taste buds.

The towering presence of Hallgrimskirkja beckoned me next. This iconic church, with its striking architecture, is a sanctuary of inner peace. Stepping inside, the hustle and bustle of the city fades away.

Later, I found myself at an Irish bar—because, let's be honest, where isn't there an Irish bar? It was the perfect spot to enjoy a Baileys. There's something comforting about the familiar ambiance of an Irish pub, no matter where you are in the world.

Today was about Exploring more of Reykjavik's Treasures. Þorfinnstjörn, a serene pond surrounded by lush greenery, offered a moment of quiet reflection. The Pavilion nearby a modern structure that contrasts beautifully with the natural surroundings.

Grótta and the Norðurströnd Trail provided a scenic walk along the coast. The Northern Light View Point, while not showcasing the auroras this time of year, still offered stunning views of the surrounding landscape. I could see the Grótta Island Lighthouse from a distance, as it's currently bird protection season, and access is restricted.

I then stopped off at Raðagerði Veitingahús. This local restaurant offers traditional Icelandic dishes with a contemporary twist. The smells were rich and the ingredients fresh, making me curse the size of my waistline as I opted for just a sparkling water with lemon and watched all the local diners tuck into beautiful looking food.

Despite all this walking, Samsung Health tells me that today I've only covered 8.2 miles and shy of 19,000 steps. I've been walking all day, exploring every nook and cranny of this beautiful city. It's hard to believe those numbers, considering how exhausted my feet feel!

As I sit here, reflecting. Reykjavik has a way of calming the mind and invigorating the soul. The combination of natural beauty, rich culture, and warm hospitality makes it a place where I need to be.

The Final Leg in Reykjavik: A Mélange of Reflections

Sitting in Bistro Bar 1892, I'm enveloped by a blissful mix of art-adorned walls and a soft, acoustic melody from a female vocalist singing about how everything’s going to be alright. It’s the kind of place where even the most cynical of souls might start believing it. Two chefs at the table nearby—a seasoned veteran and a fresh-faced apprentice—are engrossed in a conversation that’s part culinary masterclass, part life lesson. It’s like a real-time episode of “Chef’s Table”.

My appetite has been playing hide and seek these past few days, perhaps worn thin by all the walking and, who knows, maybe my body’s way of mending itself. The scent of carbonara wafting through the air is tempting, so I order as I know this will be my one meal for the day.

Today's wanderings led me to some breathtaking architecture and sleek contemporary designs. The Harpa Concert Hall and Conference Centre is vast structure, a testament to modern engineering. I can only imagine how opera, brass, and strings would reverberate off those glass walls. A short hop, skip and jump from such sophistication, I stumbled upon the Icelandic Phallological Museum. Yes, you read that right. Despite its unique allure, it wasn't exactly on my must-see list.

The harbour was a bustling hub of activity, with a mix of maiden voyagers, what seemed to be a battleship, and various sea excursions promising Viking adventures and nature experiences, from whale and puffin watching to pure, unadulterated escapism.

Reflecting on my journey, I am reminded of my travel missteps. I neglected to book transfers or excursions in advance, a decision that has cost me dearly. With the recent volcanic eruptions disrupting some excursions and the summer months limiting others, I missed out on packages that could have saved me a small fortune. Instead, I forked out 20,000 Icelandic Króna (£134) for a one-way taxi fare. This 45-minute ride from the international airport, not to be confused with the much closer Reykjavik domestic airport, has left me questioning my travel savvy.

The city's graffiti also caught my eye, a vibrant contrast to the urban landscape. These striking artworks made me think of my son and his graphic design course. I miss the familiarity and security of home - my son, the house, and the dogs. Yet here I am, two glasses of red wine deep, emotions bubbling up amidst the soothing ambiance of Bistro Bar 1892.

Shall I address the proverbial elephant in this Reykjavik room. He walked away at the airport, only to buy a new ticket to join me in Iceland. It's hugely apparent both our heads are trying to swim in the mud. Sense or guiding forces have taken over. He's still not coming. It's too big to really take on now on foreign soils. My heart and head, in fact every sinew is surrounded by a sea of fog.

Back at my accommodation, the Hotel Holt, I’m surrounded by Iceland’s largest private art collection. This boutique, luxury hotel is a cultural destination in itself, with around 460 of its 1,560 pieces on display. Sculptures like the bronze statue “Friðarengillinn” (The Angel of Peace) by Einar Jónsson and Sveinsson’s “Framtíðin” (The Future) add to its charm. The murals, stoneware reliefs, and lithographs make it a veritable art lover’s paradise.

As I sit here, now listening to a playlist of tunes, reflecting on my last day in Reykjavik, I'm filled with a mix of emotions. This solo journey has been as much about discovering new places as it has been about rediscovering parts of myself. I take another deep breath, ready to embrace whatever comes next.

God, I'm Knackered and Trying to Stay Awake: A Birthday Adventure in NYC

I’ve been awake since 5 this morning, rolling around all night like a restless pancake. I’m not sure anymore if my body clock is set to British, Icelandic, or American time. The clock says it's close to 17:00, but my body and eyes scream, “Not likely!”

Despite the exhaustion, I decided to take a stroll up to Central Park. I had grand plans of seeing the Delacorte Theatre, The Obelisk, Shakespeare Garden, and Belvedere Castle. Guess how far I got? The Pond. Yes, I made it to The Pond. But hey, it’s a nice pond. I need sleep.

Day 2 of my NYC adventure and, more importantly, my birthday! First stop: a typical American breakfast. After I felt a twinge of anxiety. I practiced some deep breathing for 15 minutes and then headed off to The High Line.

At the entrance of The High Line, I was greeted not just by the beautiful urban garden but by five fire engines, crews, and paramedics. Someone, thankfully not me, had taken a turn for the worse. I silently thanked the universe that my chest pains were just anxiety. The guy turned out fine, sitting up and alert, which was a relief.

I continued my walk from The High Line towards Greenwich Village, passing by Chelsea Market. I stumbled upon Carrie Bradshaw’s house on Perry Street, which made me laugh. A friend had jokingly told me I was only allowed to pull a Carrie Bradshaw and not come home. With a chuckle, I made my way to Washington Square Park, where I was treated to some impromptu jazz.

On my random route, I encountered the offices of big names like Google, Microsoft, and The New York Times. But I swear, I wasn’t brand hunting! I deliberately sought out Red Rock for a little white wine spritz to balance things out.

At one point, possibly a few drinks in, I encountered a sight straight out of a comic book. A man dressed like Batman’s Robin, in a full leather suit with antennae on his helmet, sped past me on some contraption that was as fast as a car. Only in New York, right?

After much more walking and sweating where no lady should sweat, I treated myself to a birthday Mojito in Soho Park. This heatwave taught me a valuable lesson: never wear jean shorts when it’s 34 degrees and you’re walking everywhere. In desperate need of a wardrobe change, I bought myself a birthday dress. It could only happen to me!

On my way to The Basilica of St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral, I saw a sign on the pavement that read, “You won’t find me the way you left me” - C7 SoulDeep. It felt oddly poignant. I carried on and decided to light a candle in the cathedral, sitting in total tranquility for a moment.

Next on my epic journey was McSorley’s Old Ale House. For the first time that day, I told someone it was my birthday. When I mentioned it was my 50th, the bartender called me a liar. Proof in hand, I earned myself a free ale. The place is a character bar, brimming with history and memorabilia: wood shavings on the floor, medals, pictures, badges, car plates, and more.

I ended my day at Old Town Bar, nursing a red wine and a chicken special. My appetite is still wonky, but I realised something important. I had walked all day, hitting some destinations on a joint list that didn’t quite resonate with me. Perhaps it was time to stop playing the wallflower and start embracing the places and experiences that truly speak to me.

Here’s to more adventures, with a bit more sleep and a lot more laughter.

Navigating the Stress and Overwhelmingness of Travel

This morning, I found myself contemplating just getting a flight home. The existing car rental couldn’t be changed into my name or have me added as a driver because the named person could no longer pick up the car. So, it had to be cancelled. Without a credit card, I couldn’t book a new car. This is when I broke down. This NYC part of the trip wasn’t my choice. I’ve been here before, albeit a long time ago, and I’ve also been to Boston, Chicago, Las Vegas, Hollywood, and LA. Now, I’m a tear-stricken hormonal mess on the bed of a beautiful 4-star hotel in the middle of Times Square. Sliding Doors.

Hotel Edison is right on Times Square, with huge amounts to do, huge amounts of people, noise, and lights. Times Square has everything you could want and more: theatres, bars, restaurants, pop-up food outlets, bus tours, bike tours, music, touts, shops, massive 3D screens coming out of the buildings, and homelessness. It’s bright, it’s a lover’s paradise, and it’s making me crave peace.

Many hours later, after placing international calls and walking to local car rental places, I think I might have sorted a new car. Only tomorrow will tell. So, I pulled every last strength of willpower together to go out and do the "stuff" I planned. I’m now sitting at the tip of NYC, with a view of the Statue of Liberty to my right and the Brooklyn Bridge to my left. Helicopters, boats, cars, trucks, and people are all moving along. It’s a great viewpoint. I’m not even sure if I’m allowed to be here, but today, I’ve stopped caring.

Moving on, I found a gem: Fraunces Tavern. This is my kind of bar. It has three areas: a whisky bar, a main bar with a restaurant, and a hidden bar. I watched the end of the England v Netherlands match in the hidden bar, nursing a glass of bubbly. England just inched in a goal to beat the Netherlands by 2 to 1, and nobody cheered. I kept quiet, watching the businessmen and groups of company colleagues all mingling and having fun.

The next day, I was apprehensive. I couldn’t eat breakfast and actually struggled to eat some amazing food from the Olive Garden last night. My son will laugh that I, of course, managed the broccoli!

I never realised it would be so difficult to get to the airport on anything other than a taxi. I had plans of being spend-savvy and lost. Taxi it was, which, given my Iceland adventure, was coming in at $90 without a tip.

The car came through. I was so thankful that I almost kissed the Hertz lady. I got a discount by using GotRentalCars, so I did a happy dance. The car is great, a Toyota, like my first car but a new model. No sat-nav, but by some pure angel looking after me, my phone linked to the computer, and I could use my own sat-nav.

Four hours turned into six hours, and my mood was sinking again. I would never have picked a touring holiday on my own. I made it to Cape Cod. The budget motel "we" picked might be the place I die. Though to be fair, the owners are lovely, and I joked with my son about the lovely young French couple next door who are more likely the first to be chosen against little old 50-year-old me!

All jokes aside, I struggled these last two days. I have wanted to give up. I poured a super large wine and ate a microwave meal using its own box as my spoon. I refrigerated the Hershey chocolate bar I was given on my birthday and ate four amazingly good pieces. That’s the first chocolate I’ve eaten since starting my travels.

But through it all, friends and family reached out, pulling me from the depths of despair. Their support reminded me that I wasn’t alone. Tomorrow is a new day, and with it, a new opportunity to mentally and physically prepare for the next part of this journey.

Here’s to resilience, to finding strength in moments of overwhelming stress, and to the incredible support network that helps us navigate the chaotic beauty of life. And a special thanks to my amazing son for the milestone-adapted photo, a symbol of love and connection amidst the turmoil.

A heartfelt thank you to Megan at Moby Dick's Cargo gift shop, Cape Cod and the next destination of Belfast, Maine.

I met someone amazing today. After indulging in some extra sleep and meditation to shake off the travel fatigue, I decided to explore the furthest point of Cape Cod National Seashore: Provincetown. As I meandered through the sand sided roads, I realised I hadn't packed any beach essentials—not even a swimsuit, towel or a book, should I have wanted to have a day in the beach! However, I found most places charge for access anyway. Instead a kind gentleman directed me to the Province Lands Visitor Center, suggesting I check out the observation deck for a panoramic view of the area.

On my way back, I couldn't resist stopping at Moby Dick's for some food. But first, the gift shop, "Moby's Cargo," caught my eye. Browsing through the reasonably priced items, I found myself drawn to the collection of stones and crystals, intrigued by their supposed healing powers. That's where I met Megan. As she helped me find a tiger's eye stone, I ended up sharing my story with her. Megan's genuine warmth and kindness were palpable. She listened intently, found me some beautiful stones, and gave me a hug that felt like pure magic. With my newfound gems in hand and a lighter heart, I left, feeling immensely grateful for her authenticity and compassion.

With Cape Cod now a cherished memory, I set my sights on the next destination: Belfast, Maine. My journey began with an early morning thunderstorm, which didn't exactly ease my anxiety about the six-hour drive ahead. But as the storm subsided, I hit the road, passing through stunning landscapes and remarkable sights, including the clean and captivating cityscape of Boston. I couldn't take photos while driving, but the images of architectural bridges, the lush Maine woods, lakeside communities, and even a Harley Davidson hotel are etched in my mind.

Arriving in Belfast was like stepping into a postcard. The town is a quaint gem, with a picturesque harbor and a charming town center. I've already swum, relaxed in a hot tub, and wandered through the local shops. One amusing moment was at a cooperative store where the attendant was surprised that co-ops exist globally, not just locally.

Settling into the Seascape Motel and Cottages is very welcomed. The setup is fantastic, with a beach hut theme that exudes coziness and charm. My room is equipped with everything I could possibly need, including a record player with access to thousands of vinyls. After making my own dinner, I treated myself to a massive cup of tea, followed by an equally massive mug of prosecco. Now, as I lounge in the comfy big bed, I contemplate whether I have the energy to join the firepit night.

The beauty of travel lies not just in the destinations but in the serendipitous encounters and the kindness of strangers like Megan. As I continue my journey, I'm reminded that these moments of connection and discovery are what make each trip unique and memorable. So, here's to more adventures, heartfelt conversations, and the magic of new places and faces.

Belfast to Amsterdam and Everything in Between: Six Hours Driving with a Slow Puncture!

Yesterday, I delved deeper into Belfast and even took a paddle in the sea, watching small boats and sailboats bobbing around in the distance. I was so absorbed in the smells, sights, and cool breeze that I didn't notice some critters having a party on my feet! You know when you put your feet in one of those fish spas, later deemed severely unhygienic? Well, I had a Captain Jack Sparrow-style bash happening on my feet until I let out a scream!

Moving on! For the first time since I started this journey, I returned to my accommodation, had a swim, enjoyed a hot tub, poured myself a mug of prosecco, and started to read my book. There were so many picturesque places I could have driven to: Bar Harbor, botanical gardens, state parks—all exuding natural beauty. But I had a constant nagging thought about tomorrow's six-plus hour journey, and to top it off, I had a slow puncture in the rear car tire. So, given all the peaks and troughs so far, I poured myself a large one and decided not to think about it until tomorrow.

Tomorrow arrived, and with it, my anxiety. I stopped at a petrol station to fill up on gas and air, kicked the tire, said a little prayer to the travel gods, and set off. My route took me through Augusta, Portland (with one of the highest ratios of restaurants and bars per capita in the US, making it a culinary hotspot, especially for its fresh seafood and lobster), Portsmouth (known for its well-preserved historic district and waterfront, being one of the oldest settlements in the US, founded in 1623, and its 17th-century buildings and maritime history), Worcester, Springfield (surely not the same one as the Simpsons?!), and the highest point on my route, which was through a maze of stunning woodland whose name escapes me!

Finally, I arrived at Amsterdam Castle, New York. I don’t want to offend anyone, especially the owners of this amazing place, particularly since I was given the deluxe suite, but I felt like I was about to star in the sequel to *Eyes Wide Shut* with my very own Tom Cruise! The tables were set out for a royal feast, adorned with gold plates and goblets, knights in armor standing at every interval, swords, gold, silver, flags, portraits, and embellishments of every order. I giggled at my humor until I met some of the locals who wished me good luck sleeping with the ghosts of past times. As I write this, I keep hearing children playing and the sound of an old hand-slapping game, but can I see them? No...

Amsterdam Castle was originally built in 1894 as an armory for the National Guard. Designed by Isaac Perry, the structure showcases the distinctive medieval military architecture that was popular for such buildings in the late 19th century. The armory served its military purpose until the mid-20th century when it was decommissioned. In the decades that followed, the building saw various uses, including time as a training school and storage facility.

In the early 21st century, the castle underwent extensive renovations to transform it into a luxurious hotel. The owners have preserved much of the original charm and character, including the large drill hall and many ornate architectural details.

Amsterdam, New York itself, (given this is the first time I've actually done any research on this place and chose it specifically because of its close proximity to New York for the return journey and it looked unique!) is a small city nestled in the Mohawk Valley. Once a bustling hub for the textile industry, Amsterdam has transformed over the years into a quiet, picturesque community. The city is known for its rich history, beautiful parks, and the scenic Mohawk River that runs through it. Visitors can enjoy a stroll along the Erie Canalway Trail or explore the local museums that tell the story of the city’s industrial heritage. Despite its small size, Amsterdam offers a charming escape with its unique blend of history, nature, and small-town charm.

Sleep is calling.

What an Adventure!

Today was supposed to be a break from blogging, but I had such an adventure in Amsterdam that I couldn't resist sharing it. After a long drive yesterday, I ditched the car and decided to explore on foot, aiming to be more social after declining an invitation to a local bar the night before. My energy tends to spike after a drive and then nosedive, so today was about maintaining that energy and making the most of my surroundings.

Today, I set out for exploring. First, I filled up the car with gas and air to maintain it for tomorrow's journey. I also met my third abrupt attendant who either didn't trust me or needed a course on customer service. Then I ditched the car and walked.

On one side of the Mohawk River, it was absolutely stunning—lush greenery, well-kept historical monuments, trails, and promises of water skiing entertainment every Thursday with bands, food, and drink for the whole community. Boats were docked beside Drifters for the night before onward journeying the Triangle Loop, a route that takes cruisers from the Hudson River at Waterford to Lake Ontario via the Erie and Oswego Canals, to the northern shore of Lake Ontario, then down the St. Lawrence Seaway (past Montreal) to Sorel. This 750-mile cruise takes about three weeks of actual cruising time, although it can be stretched out for an entire summer. Simply put, the Great Loop is a continuous waterway that recreational mariners can travel that includes part of the Atlantic, Gulf Intracoastal Waterways, the Great Lakes, Canadian Heritage Canals, and the inland rivers of America's heartland. Anyone who completes the journey is then named an official Looper!

I took an immediate liking to Dianne and Mike and would have seriously considered jumping on their boat to complete the loop back to Canada. But alas, two's a couple, three's a crowd! Besides, I obviously didn't get picked for the Eyes Wide Shut sequel, I wasn't haunted, and I never saw Tom Cruise, so my horse just wasn't in the winning lane. Still enchanted by the idea of the Great Loop, I moved on.

Crossing to the other side of the river revealed a stark contrast. Here, there were oncology units, recovery centers, numerous churches, and a train pulling a seemingly endless line of stacked Amazon Prime containers. The main roads seemed to slice through the town center without a pause, a different vibe from the scenic beauty I had just left.

As the day heated up, I ventured back across the river for a shower. I'd forgotten the lesson from New York about wearing jean shorts in this heat – peri-menopause is no joke! I changed into a dress, grabbed my book, and headed to a local bar. Just as I settled outside with a cider, the sky turned ominously black.

The bar patrons murmured about an impending red alert tornado warning. The power flickered, and sheet rain, thunder, and lightning began simultaneously. The wind picked up, causing the stop sign to have its own panic attack, wobbling frantically. A massive tree across the road was nearly invisible through the storm, swinging violently in the wind. I joked online about being whisked away like Dorothy in *The Wizard of Oz*, but truthfully, I was scared.

I have had as much excitement as I could handle for such a short period and as if by magic, but unlucky for some other county, Amsterdam was off the full brunt of the storm list, and the chaos was set on a different path. It became calm again. I was on my second cider. Then the quirky American-German hybrid bar suddenly lost all its power, so I grabbed my drink and headed back to the solid walls of the castle while I could.

There is no place like home. No place like home. No place like home.

The Final Leg: Poughkeepsie and JFK New York Airport

The last leg of my journey is thankfully made up of two shorter trips: first to Poughkeepsie and then to JFK International Airport for my flight back to Manchester, with a stopover in Iceland once again.

Poughkeepsie is nestled in the Hudson Valley, apparently has a rich history, scenic beauty, and vibrant culture. It offers a blend of urban and rural experiences, with historic landmarks, riverside parks, and a lively arts scene.

My stay at the Hyatt Place Poughkeepsie was comfortable and mainly relaxed! The hotel provided a spacious room, friendly service, and all the amenities I needed to unwind after all this driving.

However, the slow puncture in my car tyre has now become a medium puncture. I'll be relieved to return the car safe and sound. Today, I've taken it easy. The desire for more driving has waned, so I found a fantastic Mexican restaurant nearby, La Fortaleza Poughkeepsie, and treated myself to a virgin mojito and a quesadilla. The colours in the restaurant were psychedelic but fabulous, the meal was outstanding and reasonably priced.

On the drive back to the hotel, I had a close call with a tricky left turn from the fast lane in the rain, earning a few well-deserved beeps. Just ten minutes after parking, there was a huge crash at the same spot, someone had to be cut out of their car, with the other car in the trees. Fire engines, police, ambulances and no through traffic for at least 2 hours. I sincerely hope they're okay. It really does feel like someone is looking out for me.

Back at the hotel, I'm growing weary. This journey has been exhausting—emotionally, physically, and mentally. As I lie here on the large, comfy bed, the power suddenly goes out, plunging the hotel into darkness. Guided by safety lights, I make my way to the lobby and learn that a junction box on the main power line exploded, knocking out the entire network. I half-expected a tornado to be following my trail!

I yearn for the security of my home, my son who has been my light throughout this journey, my pets who must be wondering where I've gone, laughing with friends, my garden with raspberry bushes, grape vines, flowers, my own recently serviced with MOT car, cheese on hot toast, and a proper cup of tea. These simple things, often taken for granted, now seem like luxuries and we should always be grateful for.

After the power was restored around 23:00, I slept restlessly, worried about the rear tyre and navigating New York Airport traffic. In the morning, the tyre was almost flat. I opted for a safer route to a gas and air station instead of risking another illegal maneuver back across the dubious other side.

Navigating the airport was a nerve-wracking experience due to ongoing major redevelopment. The construction caused road closures, congestion, and confusing junctions. I gripped the steering wheel tightly for an hour. There are 8 terminals to give you an idea of size. My destination is terminal 7 after I drop the car off.

My baby Toyota 2024 Reg car got me touring over 1251 miles. She even kept her tyre pressure to normal when I arrived at the rental place. She didn't even show any fuel used so the tank still looked full. You may have aged me with the needing a tyre job every day but I love you more and more because I have arrived safe!

I now sit at the airport. Far too early, but I don't care. I'll read my book and write this last post to dwindle the time. I started this journey slightly broken, there have been times when I wouldn't have been able to carry on if it weren't for my friends and family. I have seen some beautiful places, met some wonderful and interesting people. I've breathed in the fresh air, paddled in the warm sea, swam, hot tubed, explored until my feet ached and the gas in the tank ran empty. I have eaten some amazing food, drank refreshing drinks, the list is endless; and I have done it all on my own. So should I ever get called some of the things I got called again I have two little words in reply...

Thank you for reading and sharing this journey with me in spirit and support.

Llawrence
18 July 2024 @ 13:17 EDT