29/11/2025
I’ve just come back from a week off where I practiced what I always tell everyone else to do: slow down, switch off, and let your nervous system breathe.
So naturally… I ran away to North Devon, ignored my phone like it owed me money, and “accidentally” climbed a mountain. (Yes, genuinely. 5,000ft of elevation on one walk. My glutes have filed a formal complaint.)
I explored the coastline, had breakfast with views that made my brain reboot, and sat on a cliff sipping soup like the main character in a low-budget wellness documentary. I hot-tubbed. I bathed. I took myself on long walks and made unusual friendships in Braunton — sheep, highland cows, and a Dalmatian-spotted pony who looked at me like he was the therapist.
I walked miles, immersed myself in music, and let my body reset in a way only solitude and sea air can do. And I’m incredibly grateful for a family who know that sometimes I need time alone so I can return grounded, restored, and fully resourced.
I feel alive, grateful, and genuinely rested — ready to support you all on the run-up to, through, and beyond the festive period.
Self-care isn’t indulgent. It’s maintenance. And sometimes it looks like soup on a cliff and befriending farm animals.