Lately, I find myself dreaming of mountains. Of clouds skidding across the smooth surface of lakes. Of the sound of bumblebees buzzing around wildflower meadows. Of padding barefoot across endless expanses of warm sand. The ocean. The feel of the sun on my face.
Working in London, a long, wet Winter, and losing my waggy-tailed walking companion are all taking their toll.
So yes, I like being outside.
I really like it.
And I haven’t been doing nearly enough of it. One of the best things about my desk job is that I’m not only allowed but actually actively encouraged to take my soul for walks on Pinterest. But if I don’t book a holiday soon then it won’t just be my soul that’s going for walkies, but my mental faculties too. I will go stir crazy.
Only problem is, I’ve been employed for a little over six weeks. My bank balance is still breathing an almost audible sigh of relief after six months of no incoming payments, and if I even whisper the word ‘holiday’ my debit card will start quivering with fear, and dive so far in to the depths of my purse that I’ll only be able to entice it out again by using the kind of soothing tone with which you’d calm a spooked horse to tell it about my pension plan.
Plus, I’m a big ol’ scaredy cat. I dream of mountains but I worry about blisters and gnats and lack of access to showers. And lack of access to sleep. And – if I’m totally honest – lack of access to makeup. And worst of all; lack of access to food. So far my adventures have basically been of the kind favoured by the average hobbit: undertaken not at the expense of comfort, cleanliness, or vanity, and always brief enough to be home in time for tea.
But I really don’t want to be the kind of person that Gandalf would consider a lost cause.
I need to stop making mountains out of the molehills of the mountains of my mind. (Comprendre?) So this post is really a post-it-note of the virtual variety, so that I can’t chicken out of the promise I’ve made myself to find an adventure.
And who knows, I might even leave my pocket handkerchief at home, too.