It’s day four of the summer holidays. *Or it was at the time of writing on 27.07.24
I’m laid on a beach in Abersoch, totally unable to pronounce the name. Llanbedrog, so that’s Clanbedrog, right?
Old Moat Berries and Cherries has been fetched by Ben and Co, following an unexpected hike to the petrol station.
The Welsh weather is providing solid rays of sunshine, paired with a gentle breeze, that is just deceiving enough to tell your brain you don’t need suncream. Yet, the crisp Rudolph nose would imply otherwise. If I look to my left, towering trees of green spill out across the tropical canvas. To the right, pebble encrusted shores dissolve into the distant blur of my short-sighted, glasses-less, eyes. Whilst my deaf ears (horrendously, I normally can’t hear a thing) cling onto the ripple of the waves.
Above my head, the clouds are dancing around, casting shadows of grey onto my Dock and Bay beach towel of dreams and when I say dreams, I mean top tier, elite, made for me, kind of dream. Pink and white stripes, splattered with a unique blend of yellow and orange that makes the vibrant water-coloured lemons.. POP. Try and tell me that wasn’t made with Hannah Keenan in mind. Made even better by the fact I tried to purchase it on Amazon before I came and it was sold out, only to catch a cheeky glimpse of the LAST one through a coastal boutique window.
We’re fresh from Hell’s Mouth surfing beach, after two hours of incredibly brisk morning water body-boarding. Wet-suits are not my friend and that’s enough said on the matter. Caught a few waves and avoided several thousand jelly fish in the process. Solid 11/10 as far as the start of summer holidays go.
Fresh from 195 days with my teeny tiny little people, 41 three and four year olds, to be precise. I’m living the holiday dream and feel overwhelmingly proud and totally appreciated! Yet the part we’re so reluctant to talk about is the swamp of exhaustion, the sensory overload and the need for recovery mentally and physically.
I’m currently lost halfway between the identity of Han and Miss Keenan, after saying goodbye to a little family of people who I spent more time with than my own and juggling an act of thinking about what lies ahead and trying to switch off. Sometimes, it all just feels like you’re running a relentless race that has no finish line.
Yet somehow, time and time again, I’m drawn back to this space to write and get lost in between the pages of my own words to restore the balance. A sunny snooze and three surprise wind showers of sand later, I have a delightful layer of grains stuck to my suncream and a storm of words spiralling around my head.
So I presume what I’m trying to say is that on this rollercoaster of emotions, the time to be slow is now and Abersoch is giving me exactly that. Give me my tent, a seriously good book and an aeropress coffee (not to mention the exceptional company) and I’m half-way there to putting Miss Keenan on standby, whilst I rescue my personal identity and revive the little loves in my life.
It’s important to note that pina coladas and midnight star gazing ft a rendition of James Blunt and Enrique Iglesias, on the end of Abersoch pier, with 5 of the best humans, strongly contributed to reigniting ‘Han’. Not to mention a failed attempt at winning Uno and the phenomenal sighting of six spectacular shooting stars. Some might say that this is winning.
In the true words, of my currently most played, in the shower, in the car, in the middle of a meltdown track.. I will yes Benson Boone, be indeed slowing it down and taking a moment (for myself) now. *or for perhaps the next five weeks
Happy bloody holidays and cheers to a summer of squeezing in every little last drop of camping road-trips across the UK.
H
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