Love is the thing

I once said to someone special that for me and my future happiness ‘love was the thing’, it was a brave but stupid thing to say because it was a hint. A big massive neon, glow-in-the-dark or slap me round the face hint and when I said it I couldn’t look him in the eye because it was directly addressed to him. It was supposed to be a key to unlock the future, but he didn’t quite get it and I lost him to another path.

But this weekend I am remembering that love actually bloody well is the thing, not just for me, for everyone! It is THE key, the master key to everything not just the guy, the girl, but yourself and everything in your life. Strangely I’m finding love all around on my solo road trip. Bring on the cheese! But ’tis true!

Everything I’m doing and seeing is with love, be it love for a new day, love for the washed up debris of a storm, love for a delicious mussel and lamb dinner with the best soundtrack in the background, love for a perfect wake-up coffee, a good read, my own pleasant company, a soft seductive Pinot noir (at lunchtime no less!) or a crisp Sauvignon blanc, a brisk salt-air walk, an amble through old streets and charms, a chat with the old lady who’s attending a Jehovah’s Witness wedding or sharing stories with another lone traveller along the way.

I’m completely on my own on this trip, barring my loyal, lovable canine companions and yet strangely I don’t feel alone at all. I am quite happily dining in the best restaurants all by myself with nothing for company but my thoughts, best perfume, underwear and a good book. And yes I am making an effort… for myself! And I’m not self conscious at all, in fact I’m celebrating and loving it! I do get some odd looks but I don’t care – I really can do what I want.

I feel loved by a caring Universe. I feel happy to be me and have all my best choices ahead of me. Left, right, single, coupled, stop, go, baby, no baby. I am free to do what I please and achieve what I want and I guess after all that is something special at this age. Well it’s the first time I’ve seen it that way. So I’ll try and have no more panic attacks at being left behind, no more doldrums, no more self pity, no more poor me. Instead I’m going to say love is the thing and enjoy the journey and if you’re lucky enough I might just share some of mine with you!



Soul trip

Easter beckons and this year I’ve got an itch I need to scratch, I don’t want another holiday season sitting around contemplating my lonely navel, so it’s time to hit the road, brush off the dust and feel the wind in my hair.

With a long weekend ahead I can escape. Travelling always makes me want to turn the page to see what happens next and after a bumpy first quarter a new chapter is just what I need.

So I’m leaving the shit and the baggage behind, throwing my dogs in the car and I’m driving far, far away on a spiritual journey to please nobody but myself. Who needs chocolate Easter eggs when you have the open road, a favourite mix tape, windswept beaches, starry night skies and tables for one at the best restaurants? I’m going to spoil myself rotten, indulge my inner foodie and I can’t wait!

But most of all I’ll take this time to look back and learn from all the mistakes I’ve made on the way to where I am today. I’m done with over-sharing, over-giving and over-loving with the men in my life and having nothing left in the pot for me. I won’t over-extend myself anymore, this time I will be sharing, giving and loving myself because just like L’Oreal “I’m worth it“.

Happy Easter, may the road rise to meet you too! Lots of love Miss Kitty xx

road trip


I feel really good today. To sum it up there’s a Florence and The Machine song called ‘Heartlines’ and it goes like this:

“But in order to get to the heart, I think sometimes you have to cut through.

Just keep following the heartlines on your hand, keep it up I know you can, just keep following the heartlines on your hand, cause I am.”

This song speaks to my roots, dripping in Celtic harps and drums, driven by Flo’s amazing voice and the vivid lyrics which conjure my homeland: rivers, tumbling stone and overgrown castles.

Its beautiful imagery makes me homesick or as we say in Welsh it gives me ‘hiraeth’ meaning a longing for the ‘Motherland’. But it also speaks to me on another level, it whispers to my inner druid. Call it mumbo jumbo if you will but I truly believe in spirituality and serendipity and I’ve finally decided to obey my heartline too.

It means conceding happily for once to leave my future to destiny. I already closed down my online profile two weeks ago and this weekend I said a sad goodbye to the lovely, gentleman scaffolder I met speed dating. He was one of The Good Ones, I knew it when we met but a month in and my spark was still damp.

I’m clearing the decks. To explain, I went to a new tarot reader recently and spookily picked the same cards as 6 months ago, the same reading, chapter and verse. I drew the Star, the Two of Cups, the Sun and the ‘wish’ card – the Nine of Cups.

I’m told I will learn to love myself first and then meet my version of the famous tall, dark, stranger abroad and only when the time is right. No matter what I do, it’s in the stars. The only travelling I have planned is homeward bound to ancient, misty Wales at Christmas. It’s a long way away and who knows what the future holds or if the cards are playing fair?

But in the meantime I’m going to enjoy hanging out with my girlfriends, being single, being selfish and following my own heartline to wherever it takes me. Because surely I’ve tried enough to no avail? Now I’m just going to relax, no more dates for tired, disappointed me.

As Florence says maybe the dog days are indeed over?


A Latin romance

A long, long time ago I traveled to deepest, darkest South America on an adventure with three dear friends. In a melancholy haze I’d agreed to this trip to Chile as a way to heal from the disappointment of first love gone sour.

Within a few days of arriving in this mysterious and beautiful country I met a walking cliche, a tall, dark, handsome stranger. He slid up next to me at the bar, a studious young Doctor with soft brown eyes, an abundance of gorgeous dark curly hair and big designs on me or so it turned out. He asked in broken English if we could dance, to which I said no, all the while giggling and blushing like a schoolgirl, but he persisted and eventually I gave in. No sooner had I agreed than he grabbed me firmly round the waist and whisked me round the room merengue style. It was like a cruel ballroom competition where I didn’t know the moves, not that it mattered, I just had to learn to relax and be guided. Now there’s an aphrodisiac right there, a man who can dance and lead. Gliding round the room I asked him what his name was “Francisco” he replied sexily rolling his ‘r’ “Ohhhh you mean as in San…Franscisco!” I chuckled at my own bad joke, trying to break the ice and the language barrier, but he was a tough audience and was way too focused on steering this robotic Westerner round the floor.

In a Brazilian nutshell I warmed to the dancing, he warmed to me. I was progressively showered first in compliments, then in drinks and finally in kisses, given to me on a romantic moonlit walk around the lake shore. My weary heart was already on the mend after a few short hours of his undivided attention and over the next few days I’ll admit that Francisco and I did more than a Latin tango. He was just the ticket for my 24 year old self, no ifs, buts and maybes, just a simple promise to enjoy our time together.  Soon enough it was time to part with the promise to keep in touch and I left Chile drunk on life again and with happy memories of my trip.

But this is me right, and we all know that nothing is ever straight forward for Miss Kitty? Over the next three months Francisco and I emailed each other a few times, just general catch up stuff and then one night I got a phone call. It was him “You said I stay if I come to UK yes? I’m here – bus!”. Surprise, surprise, I kid you not, my Latin romeo had traveled 11,000 kms to come and see me and was currently standing at the local bus stop waiting for me to pick him up! And so I had some fast explaining to do to my Mum, who was this foreigner who had just turned up and was now staying in the guest bedroom? Oh just a friend, from my travels..

But it didn’t end there! When we ate dinner he would play footsie with me under the table and during his week’s stay while I showed him the sights of my home town in the day, in the evening Francisco showed me his own sights – lying in wait, naked in my bed when I came upstairs. He never tired of this routine all week, even though I told him that things were different now, I had a boyfriend and whats more my Mother was sleeping next door! Every night I would pack him off to his own room throwing his clothes behind him and every time he would give my the sad puppy dog eyes. But see that’s the thing about holiday romances that he didn’t understand, they only really flourish in the bloom of travel and adventure. They don’t and shouldn’t fit into our humdrum lives.

So Francisco eventually and rather reluctantly caught a bus back to where he came from, a little disappointed but better traveled for the experience. I just went back to my normal life but I still treasure the memory of the Chilean charmer who helped fix my heart.