norwich

these past few weeks

Where do I begin? As I tell myself when I sit down at my desk each day - begin somewhere. Anywhere.

As you might have been able to guess from the above photos, I’ve just got back from nearly four weeks in the UK - my former home, the site of so many important and happy years of my life. This visit was not for happy reasons, however, and given that we’ve been in the grip of a global pandemic for the past two years (and with still around 300 deaths a week in Australia this month alone, I do not believe it’s over yet), I personally wouldn’t have chosen to make this trip at this point in time. But we did, and we made the best of it. More importantly, we survived everything that needed to be faced, and are safely home.

Having not left Tasmania since January 2020, it was a very welcome change of scene, despite there being a lot of stressful things to negotiate and our time being limited. However, we definitely tried to make the most of being there. I saw sites related to my PhD which I had long made my peace with never seeing in person while writing this book, so that was incredible. We made pilgrimages to literary sites I had always wanted to see but never made the time to go to when we lived here, which I’d since very much regretted. We drove over 1,000 miles all over the country. We saw some dear friends, as many of them as we could, and even made some new ones. We spent a lot of time in cemeteries. We even got to enjoy the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, which was lovely - no country does pageantry quite like the UK, am I right?

I love the UK, and always will. There are many things I miss about life there, my friends especially. But this trip confirmed for both of us that Hobart is definitely our home and moving back here four years ago was 100% the right decision. In many ways, this trip was like returning to an old life for a few weeks and while that was great fun in some respects, it was also a reminder of what we had outgrown or grown tired of. We felt very homesick for Australia while we were gone; a longing that on my part felt marrow deep. When we were finally on our flight back to Perth, I’m not embarrassed to admit my lip was trembling when the Qantas theme started playing!

I’ve spent the last week waking up at 3:30am (!), ploughing straight back into work including a conference and giving a paper on four hours sleep, and making food that requires long, slow cooking because that is my mode at the moment - go slow. To have gone from a heatwave in London and tanned forearms to an icy, dark winter and flannelette sheets on the bed has been a bit of a mind-bend, in more ways than one. But we’re deeply relieved to be back. It was nice to have an adventure, but even nicer to come home.

I’ll do my best to share the trip with you via my usual This Week headings!

Favourite experience/s

Our first tube ride, fresh off the plane. We have, of course, done that journey a thousand times - the Piccadilly line from Heathrow out to Southgate, almost at the other end of the line, which takes about 75 minutes. Our Oysters still had a little credit on them! From the moment we touched in to riding the escalator to alight at Southgate, we were both overwhelmed by how nice it was to see it all again - how nostalgic we were as the train passed through all the familiar stations that used to signal the end of the working day. The comforting familiarity of it all, how innately we knew the system, exactly where to go and what to do, as if no time had passed at all. At the same time, we were seeing it with fresh, new eyes and it felt kind of wondrous.

Surprising our old neighbours with an impromptu visit! I love surprises - both planning them for others and being on the receiving end of one - so I got a real thrill out of seeing how blown away our old friends were at finding us on their doorstep! We sat and chatted in their living room as the sun went down that first night, next door to our old flat, and it felt just like old times, like we had never been gone.

A morning run around my old neighbourhood park, and brunch afterwards at our old favourite cafe. It was nice to see how many local businesses had survived the lockdowns (and also sad to see how many hadn’t).

Experiencing the new Elizabeth line! We arrived on the day it opened and I was stunned at both the transformation in the stations that I had grown used to being building sites (cough, Moorgate, cough!) and in the efficiency of the line. You can be in Liverpool Street in two stops from Tottenham Court Road now. Mind. Blown.

All PhD related site visits - some in London, some in other parts of England, but all made the world of my characters (I say that for ease, they were real people, but I’m writing fiction) so much more alive and vivid for me. Being able to smell the air, to hear the sound of the wind in the trees, to see what flowers grow wild there in the summer, to see buildings that were already a hundred or so years old when they were living there or to feel the energy of a place where the buildings are long gone….it was beyond anything I could have imagined.

Reunions with wonderful people I love. I wish we could have seen everyone, but sadly it was a very jam-packed schedule and it wasn’t always possible to give people enough of a heads up. I worried too that in between jet lag and all the stress of the reasons why we were there, people weren’t exactly seeing us at our best either. But I needn’t have worried - everyone was very kind, understanding and accommodating, for which my gratitude is boundless. And while I’m also deeply grateful for the modern wonders that are FaceTime and Zoom, nothing quite beats seeing friends in person.

Norwich - a fabulous city we unexpectedly spent quite a bit of time in! I love it there. Wonderful places to eat, great pubs, decent coffee, a branch of my favourite UK clothing brand (Seasalt Cornwall), charity shops full of hidden treasures, an awesome bookshop, and so much history! We saw the cathedral, which dates back to 1145, and a pub that’s been open in the same spot since 1249. The mind boggles.

Seeing Sylvia Plath’s grave. This was deeply moving - sad and strange yet beautiful. I was expecting a bit of a throng of fellow Plath fans and having to wait my turn, but Tom and I found ourselves in a deserted, quiet cemetery on a bright summer afternoon. The grave is overgrown with blue forget-me-nots and I was enchanted by the number of bees buzzing around merrily in the flowers. I think she might have quite liked being a haven for bees who “taste the spring”. It was quiet and peaceful, but not quite what one of the most influential poets of the twentieth century deserves, in my opinion.

Haworth Parsonage - what a wondrous morning we spent here! I could have spent the entire day there happily. It was a real pinch myself moment; the building and its contents have been beautifully preserved by the Brontë society and there are some truly fascinating artefacts inside. My girlhood passion for the Brontës has been well and truly reignited; this visit reminded me of why I had been so fascinated by them.

Meeting lots of lovely dogs - I had forgotten how dog-friendly everything is in the UK! Every pub we went to had a dog in it, to my delight. And they usually made a bee-line for me, much to Tom’s amusement. “Every time! I don’t know what it is,” he laughed.

Anything food-related - see further!

Reading

On reflection, I should have bought all of these books too.

I have to admit, I barely read at all while we were away - apart from the news and anything work-related, because I was still working intermittently throughout the trip. So, this section will be devoted to the wonder that is UK bookshops! I hit all the big ones in London - Hatchards, Waterstones Piccadilly, Foyles on Charing Cross Road, the Brick Lane Bookshop - as well as The Book Hive in Norwich, several Oxfams and we also made a stop at Hay-on-Wye, famous for being one of the UK’s most bookish destinations with no less than 25 bookshops in the tiny village.

I had deliberately packed light so I had plenty of room to bring books back with me. I think it would be safe to say that over half of my suitcase’s final going-home weight was in books. I make no apologies - I am who I am!

Persephone has moved from London to Bath in the years since we’ve been gone, which was not on our itinerary, but thankfully there were plenty of places to procure Persephones about the place. I snaffled a grand total of six. I will be set for Persephones for some time - I do enjoy having a stockpile of them to work my way through!

We also managed to get a SIGNED copy of Jarvis Cocker’s new book which was released on my birthday (an omen). Procured from my old favourite Brick Lane Bookshop, who were as obliging and friendly as ever.

I also loved being able to pick up a copy of Waitrose magazine again - for May and June! Oh, Waitrose - how I’d missed you!

Listening to

The theme tune of our road trip was this song. Quite the ear worm, apologies in advance!

My husband would also like to inform readers of this blog that he procured some vinyl and CDs that are nigh on impossible to get in Australia and enjoyed that aspect of the trip immensely.

Eating

Chips with beer in a pub. Need I say more?

Before this trip, I could count the number of times I have eaten a meal out over the past two years on one hand. I had forgotten what a treat it is, and how exciting it is to try new things and get new ideas for your own cooking. We had some lovely and memorable meals out, interspersed with the wonderful home cooking of friends and family, and we also sampled some of our favourite treats from our old life - Fox’s Chocolate Rounds and M&S hummus (me), Skips and M&S Dutch Shortcakes (Tom), Monster Munch (both). Some lived up to our nostalgic memories and others didn’t! It is funny how your palate sometimes changes as you get older.

Mildred’s - an old favourite in King’s Cross which didn’t disappoint. We started with artichokes with panelle (fried chickpea batter), followed by a “chicken” kebab with kachumber, and a sweet potato and green bean curry with pea-flecked turmeric rice. All so very delicious. And a much needed injection of veg after a day of eating mostly pastries!

Sicilian lemon tart at Theo Randall’s - my birthday cake this year! The meal there was stunning, as always. And I so enjoyed drinking Italian, Spanish and French white wines on this trip, as an aside. There is a freshness about them that always makes me think of happy summers during the years I lived in such close proximity to all three countries.

Wagamama - another old favourite that has had an incredible menu overhaul, with so many delicious vegan options now. I tried the spicy “chicken” ramen (pictured left) and hoisin “duck” rice bowl (right) and both were amazing. The rice bowl even had a vegan “egg”, made from coconut. It was surprisingly realistic!

My aunt is an incredible cook - everything is delicious and wholesome, yet also indulgent. On our first night with her, she had made Nigella Lawson’s liquorice pudding for dessert, which was divine. I will be making it myself very soon!

Not a particularly ambrosial eating experience but a memorable one - we had been driving all day, some 400 miles, and were finally where we needed to be. We found a Travelodge and collapsed wearily on to the bed. Unable to face the idea of going out again, or even of other human interaction, I had had the foresight to buy some Pot Noodles so that was our dinner - boiling the hotel kettle and slurping up these noodles, which were surprisingly good. It felt like we were in our own version of Long Way Round.

We stayed a night with a dear friend in Hertfordshire (readers of my old blog might remember me referring to “my friend the GP” on occasion, this was her!) and after a happy and emotional reunion, she served us a wondrous spaghetti puttanesca which was so comforting and delicious after a day of driving. Accompanied by a chilled Spanish white wine, and with the comforting smell of her cooking in the air and the evening sun golden in the garden, I breathed a deep sigh of relief that the hardest part of the trip was over.

Some amazing Indian takeaway with our friends in south London. Indian food in the UK is really phenomenal, almost as good as being in India itself!

A birthday lunch of Pilpel felafel, which used to be my go-to whenever I would treat myself to a takeaway lunch when I worked nearby. Fresh, healthy, delicious, and the felafel remain the best I have ever had.

But the foodie highlight of the trip was a meal at Erpingham House in Norwich which, if you’re in the UK, I can only urge you to visit as soon as humanly possible, whether you’re vegan or not. You won’t fail to be impressed with the creativity, the quality of the food and its deliciousness.

FSH and smashed potatoes - heaven! It’s a battered banana blossom.

I wish we had been able to sample everything on the menu but in the end, Tom and I both had “fsh” and smashed potatoes (pictured above) and my aunt had “lamb”, and that took quite some deliberation! It’s such a treat to go somewhere and be able to order everything on the menu, not just be scanning for the V or VO options. I got so much inspiration for my cooking from this one meal here. It was simply outstanding.

And, believe it or not, the airline food was OK! I had two favourites - a paratha stuffed with coconut lentils and mushrooms that was served as a midnight snack somewhere between Indonesia and Dubai on the way over, and char kway teow style rice noodles with tofu served for lunch on the Perth to Melbourne flight. Qantas, you did good!

Watching

I discovered Mary McCartney Serves It Up by accident and ended up watching every episode I could lay my hands on - such a charming show with the elegant and charming Mary who cooks all vegan food. I particularly enjoyed Dave Grohl appearing as a guest!

Dinner Date - our old ITV favourite, a comfort watch that has lost none of the cringe factor! For those who don’t know, it’s a reality show where a single man or woman is given five menus to choose from - of those five, they pick the three they most like the sound of (or, most likely, the three the producers have decided would make the most interesting/awkward TV!) and are then subjected to three blind dates where said blind dates cook a three course meal for the guest. At the end of the trio of blind dates, the guest chooses the host they most felt a spark with and off they go, out for a meal they haven’t had to cook! The two unpicked hosts get a commiseration prize of a ready meal. It’s my favourite kind of reality TV and I so enjoyed catching up on a few episodes! I’m pretty sure there’s been an Australian version, which I’ll have to sniff out.

We were also introduced to the nature program Springwatch, which I had never seen before - it’s broadcast live from a series of cameras all over the UK, which “charts the fortunes of British wildlife during the changing of the seasons”. Some stories have a soap opera element about them, with some quite dramatic fates of certain nests of fledglings! It’s really quite relaxing to watch at the end of the day. And oddly hilarious in places, as birds really do get up to some crazy things.

We also watched the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee concert which opened with the Queen and Paddington Bear, which was so very sweet (Paddington 2 is an incredible film, if you’ve not seen it, FYI). We were also in the country during the vote of no confidence in Boris Johnson so naturally were glued to the BBC for the results of that…

Finally, finding Stanley Tucci’s Searching for Italy available to watch on the flight home after not being able to watch it in Australia was amazing! Dear Stanley, what a lovely man he is. How I would love to be friends with him and Felicity! The program is so thoughtfully and passionately put together, and some parts of it are so tender and moving. And guaranteed to make you want to eat pasta, I’d say.

Quote of the trip

“It’s always better to travel hopefully.” - Rick Stein

Whenever we found ourselves despairing or overcome with anxiety (which sadly but unavoidably happened quite frequently on this trip) about what lay ahead and all the things that could go wrong, one of us would say to the other “travel hopefully”, which is what Rick Stein says at the beginning of his Secret France series, admittedly in the very different context of being hopeful of finding some great food and wine on his travels. We were rewatching some comfort TV in the lead up to our departure, in a bid to keep all the anxiety at bay, and when we heard Rick say the words “travel hopefully”, it became our mantra. And it helped.

It’s hard to explain and I know a lot of people won’t understand, but we had not even gone to the mainland in all this time, so the idea of making such a big journey was very daunting and still felt incredibly risky. We had grown very used to overseas travel being government-sanctioned and off limits, so to be doing it again with very few restrictions felt so strange, almost surreal. And frightening at times, to be honest. I’m proud of how resilient we both were, how we just got on with things, and stayed positive in the face of some very challenging experiences.

And somehow, by some miracle (because our flights were full and we were definitely in the minority in terms of consistent mask wearing), we have remained Covid free! Masks and vaccinations for the win. And travelling hopefully doesn’t hurt either.

So there you have it. I hope you enjoyed the recap! As always, thank you for reading and if you’d like to share your thoughts on this post, or anything else, with me, then please do. I’ll be back later in the week with my usual This Week wrap up. It’s good to be home. xx

i must begin again: a writing retreat in norwich

Serving suggestion for this post: sitting comfortably either with a cup of tea you've just made or on a train that isn't going anywhere.

Years ago, when I was writing the earliest drafts of what eventually became The Latte Years, I would often house-sit for friends for a few days when the opportunity arose, relishing a house as empty as my schedule, where I could completely dedicate myself to writing, away from the daily grind of life. Of course, when you have a deadline and only three months to deliver 100,000 words around a full time job, you suck it up and get it done. But the idea of time – a few days completely free of your usual routine and obligations, stretching out in front of you – to do that work is a really precious and luxurious thing.

I have done wonderful guided writing retreats before, and if money were no object I’d do them far more often. There’s a lot to be said for the motivation of a group setting and an experienced, inspiring teacher to spur you on. But the empty home of a kind friend or relative for a few days does just as well, and is utter bliss for the creative person.

A bit over a month ago, I went to Norwich to a sweet little cottage to house-sit, keep my aunt’s plants watered, to write and recalibrate.

I have a few projects on the go at the moment – the biggest one being what I hope will be Book 2 – but they had all been lacking much-needed momentum. About six months ago, in the midst of the bleak end of winter, I decided I would go away on my own a few days at some point over the summer, to see if I could find that missing ingredient. With all the highs and lows 2016 had delivered so far, I needed to reconnect with myself and my creative practice, without the distractions of daily life providing endless justifications for putting things off, for not making time.

Unfortunately that week at the end of July I had come down with a nasty throat infection, so on the train journey up from London I mostly sipped hot tea, read Oh Comely magazine and eavesdropped on interesting conversations happening all around me. All things I enjoy doing, sore throat or not! But I was unsure as to whether the weekend would be as productive as I’d hoped, given how poorly I was feeling. Many of the businessmen around me were drinking whisky. I considered joining them, I was sure it would help my throat.

Travelling essentials.

Travelling essentials.

I arrived safely, fell on the empty house with gratitude and relief, and went to bed early. I was up with the sun the next day – a rhythm I settled into for the rest of the retreat. Each day began with black coffee made in the moka pot on the stove, sipped in the garden, where toasty warm sunshine beat down on my shoulders, bees and butterflies floated among the flowers and the coffee slowly warmed my sore throat, dry and raw from coughing.

I walked into Norwich city centre nearly every day, mostly to treat myself to a second coffee at Gosling and Guzman. “The secret to a happy life is continuous small treats,” said Iris Murdoch in her novel The Sea, The Sea, which I happened to be reading, so I took it as a sign to get a cinnamon bun too.

Lovely coffee and buns at Gosling and Guzman. And their takeaway cups are so pretty!

Lovely coffee and buns at Gosling and Guzman. And their takeaway cups are so pretty!

I was alone for the whole time, but not lonely. I slipped easily into solitude, wearing it like a comfy familiar sweater. No television, no internet, no email, no social media. Text messages were the only contact I allowed myself with the outside world. It was amazing to realise how disciplined I could be and simply not look at social media – I disabled all notifications so it was simply a matter of not allowing my finger to touch the icon, though it gravitated automatically whenever my phone was in my hand, much to my curiosity. It’s definitely far more of a habit and a distraction than I realised.

Otherwise, I gave everything my full attention – not just my writing, but books I read, music that kept me company, food I cooked.  Choosing to focus, to tune out the usual constant distractions, it was incredible how much more I noticed and took in, savouring everything from the peppery depths of my watercress soup and subtle key changes in the music I was playing, to the smell of the air, the way light changed and the burn of hot tea in my sore throat.

Watercress soup - probably *the* best thing you can eat when trying to recalibrate, it completely detoxifies the body! And it's so yummy. I made Sarah Wilson's recipe in I Quit Sugar For Life.

Watercress soup - probably *the* best thing you can eat when trying to recalibrate, it completely detoxifies the body! And it's so yummy. I made Sarah Wilson's recipe in I Quit Sugar For Life.

I did yoga daily, something I haven’t done for a few years. Pigeon pose was incredibly comforting. I spent an entire Ludovico Einaudi song in uttanasana. I did my favourite episodes of Lacey Haynes’ Home Yoga Retreat many times.

I sat with my thoughts a lot, my journal open and a pen beside me, to scribble down anything worth remembering.

Sometimes I just sat and watched the light change. The light inside the house was very soft and as it hit the table and my piles of books, it looked milky, like when paint brushes are dipped into a jar of water. My iPhone camera didn't quite capture it so I just watched and took a picture with my mind instead.

I wrote a lot. Not the sort of things I thought I would write, interestingly. As the second day dawned, it became clear to me that this retreat was less about coming away with something to show for myself (which, if you've been reading me for a while, you know I enjoy) and more about getting my groove back.

Snapped while walking the quiet streets of Norwich city centre, sipping coffee. It seemed apt!

Snapped while walking the quiet streets of Norwich city centre, sipping coffee. It seemed apt!

Why did I lose my groove though? I wondered in my more melancholy moments. I didn’t think I’d feel like this. Why do I feel so empty, when my dream has come true? I wrote. Why do I feel so exhausted and, if I’m honest, sad? How did I go from so pumped, disciplined and motivated to can’t-be-fucked and what’s-the-point?

And then I re-read Dani Shapiro’s masterpiece, which I highly recommend to any writer, Still Writing. I found it such a comfort last year, where I mostly read the “Endings” section. This time, the “Beginnings” section was far more resonant.  Reading this paragraph was like a warm reassuring hug:

When I’m between books, I feel as if I will never have another story to tell. The last book has wiped me out, has taken everything from me, everything I understand and feel and know and remember, and…that’s it. There’s nothing left. A low level depression sets in. The world hides its gifts from me. It has taken me years to recognise that this feeling, the one of the well being empty, is as it should be. It means I’ve spent everything. And so I must begin again.

If you have done your job…you’ve thrown your whole heart into this. And now your job is done. And you are bereft.

I wanted to cry as I read this. I had spent months thinking there was something wrong with me. My whole body flooded with relief that another writer, let alone one I deeply admire, felt this way too. 

I gave The Latte Years everything I had. So indeed, that has been the feeling, even though I have so many other ideas and stories I want to explore, over the last six months or so - that I had nothing left, both to say nor the capacity to say it. The Latte Years had been a part of my life for a long time – scratch that, it was my life, literally! - that being without it has been very strange. It's only been recently, staring down the barrel of October, that the tunnel has had light in it again.

The first draft of what became the book that was published in January this year was started in 2010. It wasn’t necessarily the story I wanted to tell, but the one I had to. It was bossy and barged to the front of the queue. Me first, it demanded. It was a story that had been hanging around ever since the events of it had taken place, a story that had me by the throat and wouldn’t let go until I told it. I knew attempting to write anything else in the meantime would be fruitless – and indeed, it was. And now it is done. 

So what ended up happening on this retreat was nothing earth-shattering, just a lot of journaling and several short pieces of fiction. Because after years and years of my writing being about this one thing, I am finding my feet again. It’s strange, like what I imagine training for another marathon might be like. I’m back at the beginning. But this time I don’t have the energy of the first-timer, when you have no idea what you’re in for, and everything’s exciting, and it’s purely the thrill of the unknown and whether you'll actually pull it off spurring you on. Once you know, it’s definitely harder to lace your shoes up.

Writing ingredients.

Writing ingredients.

And something I have to remember is that while, yes, I wrote the manuscript for The Latte Years in three months, I had actually been trying to write that story for nearly five years prior to that. So, in theory, I’m way ahead of schedule for Book 2 and I need to stop beating myself up. Now is the time for thinking, gathering, marinating and, frankly, savouring. I worked so hard. It's OK to enjoy this and take a while before I dive in again. It makes sense to me to cultivate a strong practice, a mixture of discipline and play, so that I can get the juices flowing.

Retreats tend to spark the question "how can I keep this amazing, peaceful, zen feeling going in my life once I go home?" and I was no exception! I want balance and energy in my life, but I get very overwhelmed at the idea of trying to fit in everything I want to do with my time. The answer came very clearly towards the end of my time in Norwich and it felt like it had been staring me in the face all along. I am a fairly motivated and disciplined person but the secret to me achieving anything in life is to have projects, goals and deadlines. Without those things, I flounder. I always have.

Me, doing my best non-floundering face.

Me, doing my best non-floundering face.

But the truth is, I’ve needed to take the pressure off myself this year and have a few less deadlines, goals and to-do lists. The only thing that has stopped me from hiding under the duvet each day has been going gently. Withdrawing quietly from anything non-essential that adds nothing to my life. Writing mostly for myself, filling journal after journal, knowing it will never be read by anyone else and revelling in the thrill of that. Trying not to beat myself up about not doing everything I feel I ‘should’ be doing. Time out from life showed me that I can’t force inspiration. I can’t force a story out of me, it will only happen naturally. And perhaps it has more of a chance of happening naturally if I give myself what I need. Like, nourishing and simple meals. Creative play. Daily yoga. Time out from being ‘on’. Daily journaling of my thoughts. Meditation, sitting, supporting my throat chakra (which needed a lot of help, it was no accident I had a sore throat. More on that in the next post!). Self care. The luxury of doing nothing and not feeling guilty about it.

There was a part of me that thought I’d come away from my days in Norwich with the start of the next book, and that didn’t end up happening. But what did happen was I locked the house on the last morning, walked to the station and sat calmly and happily with a coffee and magazine (no phone!) on the train back to London, and felt flooded with a renewed sense of purpose. I was returning to my life with a bit of clarity, a clearer vision and a new pleasure in my craft; a re-dedication to my practice; and a better awareness of what I need to feel creative and balanced, and to make sure I get those things, because that is the only way I will do my work.

In that respect, the retreat was a complete success.

Reading on the way back to London.....

Reading on the way back to London.....

Next post: how I healed my throat chakra in Norwich (now there's an article for the East Anglian Daily Times!)

Have you ever gone away on your own to retreat, recalibrate, start a new project or get your groove back? What did you discover?