Wow. What a year 2015 was. I’m a bit late to the game with this post, but it’s taken a few days to gather my head together from jet lag and to get down in words just how much wonder managed to fit into 12 months.
It started with this press trip to India, a month that involved chaos and confusion, arguments and arrest. This month jumped from hell to paradise in a day, it introduced me to the two souls who inspire me more than anything, who are the most supportive and fierce females I’ve ever had the fortune to be in unfortunate circumstances with.
Travels then turned to my own continent – I had the worst hangover of my life at home in Cornwall and spent my birthday bathing in beer at a beer spa in Prague, wandered the memorials of Berlin and lounged on the canals of Utrecht, feeding the remains of too much red wine with Dutch beer.
Went to Geneva, drank rum and then hopped on a transfer bus to Chamonix for three blue-bird days of thick powder on the slopes. I came away so sunburnt my face was swollen, but so happy my heart could explode.
We road-tripped Italy. From Rome, to Pisa, To Florence to Venice. It was sunny and the heat was as warm as our spirits. We drank Prosecco on the Grand Canal and wondered how life could be so fabulous.
I went home and spent time with the people I love. We walked on cliffs and sat in pubs, made memories to tell the grandkids and spent time filling my belly with the people who fill my life.
I went to New York and met my best friend on the other side of the Atlantic. We drank cider at festivals and gin cocktails in bars. We ate. Everything.
On return to the UK was Glastonbury 2015. Ten days of uninhibited, unabashed, filthy fun. There was music and cabaret and beer pong and Lionel Richie. We stayed up until dawn and partied far longer than our bodies could handle.
I travelled through my home county with my soul sisters, drank rum in the sun and laughed wildly about the countless bad decisions we consistently make. We made more of those, but what’s a good life without a poor choice?
We road-tripped Portugal, drank wine, ate cheese and bathed in the heat that leaked through our skin. We lived out of a van and needed nothing but the company we kept. There were sunsets that made our hearts stop and so much love we might burst.
Went to Ireland and made the best decision of my life.
Festivalled until I could festival no more.
Got on a ferry to France and spent a week roaming Brittany. We explored a castle and lay on beaches, ate mountains of seafood and drank rivers of wine. It was perfect.
Found myself on a flight to Canada where I belly laughed my way into earning my Winnipeg Master Angler status.
Came home and stood still for six weeks. Settled into a life of laughter and eating, talking and sitting.
Fell hopelessly in love.
Learned the art of stopping and appreciating the stillness of life on Easter Island. We walked and we slept and we watched. We started to love the quietness of the night in the middle of the South Pacific. We ate a fish head a lovely Japanese man cooked for us on a BBQ and wondered, once more, how life could be so wonderful.
Found ourselves in El Bolson, Argentine Patagonia, hiking for days without seeing another soul. We hiked so hard we nearly cried, but hiked so hard that our spirits soared. We drank from glacial run off and cooked on an open fire. We abseiled down cliffs on bamboo and scrambled up scree slopes in howling winds. We were dwarfed by glaciers and ice-fields and slept deeper than the darkness that engulfs the wild.
Climbed an active, lava spewing volcano on Christmas eve and spent Christmas day too sunburnt from glacial reflection to sit in the sun. We drank wine and laughed and wore Xmas socks despite the Chilean heat.
We went to the beach and ate BBQ before falling for Valparaiso so hard it was almost impossible to leave.
Landed home on New Year’s Eve to bring in 2016 with a carousel of music and love.
What a wonderful year.