I had no thought then of husband or lover,
I was a traveller, the guest of a week;
Yet when they pointed ‘the white cliffs of Dover’,
Startled I found there were tears on my cheek.
“The White Cliffs” by Alice Duer Miller (1940)
Cardiff will always hold a special place in my heart. As I was telling you in a previous post, I fell in love with it as soon as I got off the London train on a cold and dark December. In my mind, the name will always conjure up a memory of frozen nose and red cheeks on evenings at the Bay. I was so cold that I could no longer feel my fingers and Mermaid Quay sparkled with fairy lights. We stopped at the (now defunct) Café Rouge. I remember the warmth of the onion soup bowl around which I wrapped my hands and afterwards, the icy wind as we walked back to our hotel. I loved that winter, as I have loved every winter there ever since (though it is of course very nice in the summer too).
For the past twelve years, I have been in a beautiful – though challenging – relationship with a brilliant Italian man. We have had our ups and downs, like in any relationship, but our ups have been peaks and our downs, abysses. To be fair, I have known from the beginning that our story was doomed, as it has been plagued by further complications, namely:
This post is not sponsored by P&O Ferries or any of their affiliates. But it should be.
In a nutshell
Object: The Club Lounge (the equivalent of first class seating) on P&O Ferries
Location: On the Calais/Dover and Dover/Calais cruises
Price: €14/£12 per person, unless you’re the first car to board the ship, in which case it is €14 per car
I have just started to unpack ten days’ worth of luggage after a lovely summer trip to Wales (translation: I have opened my bag, spent two minutes wondering if doing the laundry really was what I wanted to do with my day and decided against it), and something struck me: I hadn’t worn a good third of the clothes I had taken with me. I had to face it: I, like many other people, pack too much stuff.
Our first series will be dedicated to South Wales (not to be confused with New South Wales, which is about 10.000 miles down the road) for the very simple reason that I love Wales and the Welsh. I mean, those guys have managed to produce that absolute treasure of a man that is Leigh Halfpenny AND Welsh cakes, and a country that has yielded two things of equal value and appeal in the course of its history surely deserves our love and respect, unlike Switzerland.
The perilous exercise of writing the introductory post for a new blog comes with its own series of clichés to avoid like the plague (like, for instance, using the phrase “to avoid like the plague), such as the self-interview format, the overabundance of links, the desperate call to a publisher and unrelated pictures of baby hyenas. Well, guess what!