Skip to main content

Isle of Wight Time

We decided to vary from English countryside and try the English seaside instead. The prospects were not good. This week it snowed in London, the week was grey and cold, we were exhausted from a nasty week at work. For the first time in years we did not go in search of guaranteed warm sun as we always do in the first May Bank Holiday. Initially planned as a Cornwall trip, our weekend turned to the Isle of Wight, also unknown to us. 
Isle of Wight is not disappointing so far. The classic English manor house at the Priory Bay Hotel offered us a superb room with a view overlooking the estate and the sea. The friendly staff are welcoming of our unstoppable toddler though we are surprised to see almost no guests (after the website said they were full and we called just to give it a try). The estate also give us direct access to a large sandy beach (from where I started this blog) where we spent a long lazy time watching the sea, collecting stones and throwing up them back at the water. The beach had only locals who immediately took the good weather on offer. They all seem to have a dog, must be a requirement around here. By good weather I mean we were ok in our wintery jackets, not in shorts or t-shirts! C played endlessly with stones and sand. She does not get messy enough as she is often oicky about having her hands dirty so we encouraged her and, as we moved to the beach 'next door', a pebble beach, she enjoyed laying down and burying daddy on the stones. 
The afternoon took a turn away from the sea as we decided to visit the IOW Zoo. At first we were suspicious of whether we were making the right choice, but as we started the tiger feed we knew we were in the right place. Tiger Aisha chose to place her meal just in fromt of us, a meter away, where we could enjoy the scenery without having to zoom in any camera. Of all places, I never thought Isle of Wight Zoo would be where I would see closer lions, tigers and a jaguar. Exhausted but happy we finished our day with a muffin by the beach. 
As we walked on the beach I got nostalgic of what i know won't last forever. When one of our long lasting dreams comes through and we move to Portugal, we know we will have less time for our core. So we promised we would do this no matter what, to spend time with each other. And stop to watch throw pebbles and get our hands in the sand. Thank you Isle of Wight for a happy (Portuguese) mother's day!

 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Time is what makes us different

I heard what is likely to become one of my top 3 favourite quotes on a podcast on Friday. "Time is the only real democratic asset. We are all awarded the same time, it is what we do with it that distinguishes us".  Now, I recognise that most of us need to work with survive and that is not democratic throughout. But on an equal opportunity basis, this is an interesting way of putting it. For many years I did not understand why MS thought my resume was so interesting. In fact, they chased me during the entire recruitment process, even though I had no idea of moving to London or Finance. I wanted to be a consultant and stay in Lisbon forever. But traditional consultants in Portugal saw nothing in me, and MS did not let me go. When I started screening resumes and hiring people a couple of years later is when I understood why I was different. TIME.  I was truly different about what I did with my time. Not necessarily the basics - choice of degree or anything. But really ...

Haunted by journaling

Journaling is haunting me. In different places, posts, blogs, podcasts, workshops or books, I get brainwashed by the wonders of journaling, what it can do for my morning as part of a morning ritual of meditation. For many years, I thought if only I would journal, I would have a blog full of life, ideas that never end and a calm relaxed life, with my thoughts off my head every day, not haunting me for fear of being forgotten. I love a good empty page, be it on a book or a screen. To be fair, I even do better on a screen shining back with words filling faster than my hands think they can type and my eyes semi-shut to the wonders that can come by. I don't know what the end game is, I like it to go free. But I don't journal. I can't make up my mind if I want to give it a proper go or not, I don't like the feeling at "failing" some of these initiatives, I don't have much to say every day though I have random thoughts during the day that I which could be reco...

HBS Reunion (a year ahead of time). A world of opportunity

I sit in a Spangler couch. ‘It looks like an  expensive countryside hotel lounge’ my sister said when she first came to visit. It is all that except for the hotel part. Unbelievably comfortable for a solitude moment or a chat around a coffee table. Designed for both.  I sit inside as Boston weather sticks to its reputation. 26 degrees for the 3rd day but rain has hit amidst the sun. Everyone is quick to reallocate. It is na odd environment, one where I am an outsider. It is not my reunion after all. And amongst all my strong interpersonal skills, I am still an introvert, which most people don’t recognise as truth (incl B really). Large social gatherings with people I don’t know get me exhausted. When I started going out with B, he was already out of the section ‘cult’ and I was full on my own cult. Our friends intersected in the international crowd and that was sufficient. And barely noticeable. But as I am here, with no offence, I belong nowhere. I am not in reunion but I ...