Tag: travel

“We Can Take Teabags… Right?”

“Twas the night before an adventure, when all in my room
Not a guide dog was stirring, she’d gone after one last groom.
The backpack was hung by the door with care,
In hopes that the morning would soon be there.”

Tomorrow I am going on a trip to France with my college- this is currently resulting in me having that tingly feeling in my toes which only comes with pure excitement. Whilst we are there we will be staying at the ‘Cité Scolaire René Pellet‘- a school like my college here in England, which provides for visually impaired students. We will be exploring Lyon, meeting the students and getting immersed in the culture for five days. I am studying the language for an AS level at the moment, so I am looking forward to trying to overcome my fear of offending people by accident when I speak a foreign language. It also gives me the opportunity to practice for my french speaking exam which discusses gay marriage in Francophone countries.

During the last few weeks we have gone over the details of the trip as a group several times. In the most recent I voiced my growing concern on whether we would be allowed to take teabags in our hand luggage through customs. I was relieved to know that I wasn’t alone in my pondering and yes: teabags can go through airport security. After all, we are British and therefore need our cups of tea like we need oxygen, Radio 4 and Stephen Fry.

We were only allowed to take hand luggage and I have just about managed to squeeze my essentials (tea included) into my big ‘for every occasion’ backpack. There will be seven visually impaired students and four staff members going on the trip. I am hoping (internet dependent) to blog as I go. Anyway… I have a 5am wake up call to look forward to in the morning so I better be getting to bed!

Bon Voyage!

Map of France with Lyon Marked On


Rusted Root – Send Me On My Way

Cœur de Pirate – Ensemble

Then My Trousers Illuminated Themselves…

Last saturday I went on what I believe to be my longest independent rail journey so far. But don’t worry this post isn’t going to be about the triumph of independence or anything as grand as that…

On days of long journeys or out of the ordinary activity I tend to wake up very early in the morning in order to give myself plenty of time. I am one of those people who needs time to pack and unpack their bag at least three times to check they definitely have everything, who will need time to change outfits at least twice and also requires a small allowance of time to run and collect forgotten items. Not to mention I also need to get my dog, AKA furry child, ready. Thinking on this I set my alarm for 5:50am and promptly fell asleep knowing that I had plenty –if not too much- time to get to the station.

At 2am I woke up. In the brief moment of consciousness that followed I assured myself that I could go back to sleep, safe in the knowledge that I had so much time ahead of me. In hindsight I now know that those few waking moments at witching hour were a warning from my sub-conscience of things to come.

My alarm went off as expected with its usual cacophony of deafening pre-installed jingles, and after I had silenced it I checked my twitter feed as I have become accustomed to doing in the past months. I was feeling pretty relaxed and a bit tired, but when I swiped up to the top of my screen my head imploded. 6:50am. That can’t be right? After confirming the time with my iPad and laptop I realised, with a sinking heart, that I had made a terrible error. Rushing about I quickly did a triple check of my bag, grabbed my lunch from the kitchen and rushed Lai to the pen. My taxi arrived promptly at 7:15 as planned. My hour and twenty minutes preparation time had been banished to just twenty minutes. In my rushing I hadn’t had time to get changed out of my pyjamas but had somehow managed to stuff a set of clothes and face wipes into my oversized bag. Officially dishevelled and panting slightly I ran up the path to the waiting taxi.

On the short ride from the college to the station my mind was dancing about on the, rather prominent, issue of how I was going to get changed and also avoid public humiliation. I paid the driver and he very kindly guided me from the taxi to the ticket office where I was then met by passenger assistance, who took me onto the dark platform. It was still early and the sun hadn’t risen properly yet. I was self conscious of my choice of attire but I was for once grateful that it was so dark and hoped no one would notice.

If only. If only I had chosen any other pyjamas the night before. The assistance man gave me a surprised look as we stepped into the darkness and I felt his arm shake slightly as if he was holding back a laugh. That was when I saw it. Out of the bottom of my eye I could just see a greeny yellow glow rising up my leg. My heart sunk for the second time that morning. I was wearing my glow in the dark pyjama bottoms, the ones I had bought in town years ago because I thought that the novelty of them was rather endearing. They had been a talking point at sleepovers for a year or so, and then they had began to get a bit short around the ankles and were subsequently demoted to ‘it’ll do’ sleepwear. The taxi driver who had guided me around the front of the taxi in the bright headlights had unknowingly charged my trousers to the max. On further inspection I had never seen them glow so bright. Now here I was, on a train station platform at 7am wearing alarmingly luminous trousers.

I asked quickly if I could be shown to the toilets and once in there, still ashen faced with the stupidity of my actions, I quickly pulled on my leggings. From the other side of the door I could hear the guide whistling in a very up tempo we-have-to-go manner. Alas, I pulled my bag back onto my shoulders and hurried out, now painfully aware that I was still wearing a top which said ‘sweet dreams’ in big letters across the chest.

Once on the train I wiped my face with some of the wipes I had shoved into my bag and ate some mints in place of brushing my teeth. I was clutching my coat to myself in an attempt to conceal my embarrassing pyjama top from the teenage couple opposite me. There was no toilet on this train and no way of actually swapping tops. In the end I resorted to a layering technique of subtly covering up my pyjama top with it’s more acceptable substitute. It must have looked quite bizarre to the other passengers, but I think I got away with it by pretending it was a jumper and someone had stolen its sleeves…

It could have been a lot worse because I could have forgotten to set my alarm entirely and missed my train. Though the moral of this story is always make sure you change the hour of your alarm and as well as the minutes.

… And when planning on being publicly pyjama-ed always make sure they are not brighter than most traffic lights…

A pair of glow in the dark trousers

Birthday Adventure and Travels

This is going to be a quick blog post, mostly because I have spent way too much time thinking and not left enough for writing. Excuses, excuses I know. Tomorrow I start on my epic summer ‘tour’ and I am very excited. Every year in the summer holidays I tend to do something away from my family or, as I prefer to call it, an adventure. For two years I went on Action for Blind People activity weeks, before that I did guide and brownie camps and last year I went through my biggest adventure yet- training with my guide dog. This year, after finishing my exams and finding myself a whole extra month of holiday to play with I have taken it upon myself to cram as much in as possible. Tomorrow is the start of my travels, but first a catch up…

My status as a ‘May Baby’ was always fine until I hit my year six SATs at primary school. This was the first time that I realised that my birthday would clash with nearly all of my major exam seasons throughout my time in education. However during my SATs I remember being more concerned with the vomiting bug I had unfortunately contracted at the start of my tests than my multiplication methods taking over my birthday! Being a may baby really isn’t that bad though, so far it has been only every six years that I have had exams imminent on the day. This year my birthday took place right before my friends and I were due to sit our final french exam. I figured that it would be both incredibly selfish (and incredibly stupid) to use the weekend before our monday exam for a sleepover or celebration. So I waited for summer and I am so glad I did!

As I have already written in a previous post: Dalby Forest is one of my favourite places in the world. For my late birthday celebration I was lucky enough to be able to go camping there with my friends. We had a fantastic time and the weather was perfect. During the day we went bike and tandem riding around the many paths through the forest, and at night we devoured a very large oatmeal and raisin cookie cake slice by slice. Riding a tandem is something that I had not experienced as a VI person before, though I had ridden (navigated by Mum) a tandem around the forest when I was six years old. This was nothing to do with my impending vision loss, but I was just a very uncoordinated child and wasn’t to be trusted near large hills and craters whilst on a bike. Ten years later and though myself and friend Z were initially very unsure and wobbly on our new found shared wheels we quickly picked it up. We found that a system of counting up and down for setting off and slowing down was very helpful for keeping us in sync. It seems that the first few seconds of movement are very important when navigating a tandem and if both riders aren’t seated, balanced and peddling you are on very rocky ground! Though Z found the experience slightly stressful as she was completely responsible for my safety (apparently I am to blame for some grip-related blisters on her hands) I found it relaxing- after all I only had to peddle! Myself, S, E and Z did two bike rides: one which was two miles long in the morning, and the other which was supposed to be eight miles. All the routes were circular and so you just had to keep riding and following the signs to get home, simple!

Sadly my friends and I have a tendency of getting in bizarre/dangerous situations. On the first bike ride there was an incident with E, who was at this time probably the most confident rider in the group, and Z’s video camcorder which she got for christmas. One thing that we all share is our love of multimedia; S is a keen future animator, Z is a very good photographer and always is the one with the camera, and I am the geek with the sound recorder and often a camera somewhere in a bag too. Early into this first trail -when myself and Z were still wobbling but beginning to relax a bit- we remarked how cool it would be to get some footage travelling through the forest and of the scenery around us. E, who was riding my old bike rather well, offered to film with Z’s camcorder and everything was fine… until it wasn’t. Myself, Z and S passed over a bridge and we didn’t have any doubts that E would be quick to catch up with the camera. But then there was an “Agh!” from behind in the direction of where we had just come, not very loud and not enough to make us brake. It was the splash that followed that made us abruptly stop in our tracks. Screaming E’s name in the alarming silence which had fallen upon us, we all ran to the side of the bridge where we found E kneeling in the stream water just to the side of the bridge. Offering her a hand and helping her up the mucky slope she had seemingly fallen down, and then fishing out the bike, we established that she was not too badly hurt aside from some grazed knees. E is one of those remarkable people who tends to bounce back quickly when they are put in a potentially dangerous situations, in fact she was once hit by a car and was texting friends a few minutes later. Sadly the same could not be said for Z’s rather soggy camcorder which we hoped very dearly would dry off and recover, or at least let us see the footage of E falling into the stream for a laugh. It showed how strong our friendships are in the group because it was a good few minutes before Z even mentioned her likely broken christmas present even once we found out that E was fine. The rest of the ride was beautiful, though E was still soaked through!

After a lunch of crisps and brioche bread we attempted the second of the ‘beginner’ routes. My Mum, a naturally outdoorsy person, had warned us that it started with a very large hill which we shouldn’t let deter us. Thinking back this should probably have set alarm bells off in my head. For Mum to even mention a hill existing, for the average person it must of been an extreme mountain. When we reached the start of the route we were faced with what appeared to be a cliff face. A very steep hill indeed. Cycling up the hill lasted mere moments because none of us had the muscles that would be required to prevent ourselves rolling back down the slope. Lugging our heavy bikes up caused energy levels -and general morale- to drop. It was all that I could do to keep in a state of permanent optimism, although my arms and legs were admittedly screaming from pushing the back end of the tandem. If you were going to make the assumption that a tandem shared between two people walking up a hill requires less effort than a whole bike each- you are sadly mistaken. After recovering from the climb we carried on cycling; it was steeper than our first route and we had to walk the bikes up various bumps in the track. Whilst trying to follow the signs my group had problems distinguishing the green arrows (a very dark shade) from the black. This was a bit of a problem because the black was, according to our map, ‘extreme’ where as the green (which we were already struggling with) was ‘beginner’. At some stage I think these signs were responsible for causing the following incident. Myself and Z had found ourselves at the head of the group, and after powering up and down a hill we had lost the other half of our party. We had raced past a cross roads and (whilst pausing for them to catch up) it began to dawn on us that E and S had probably gone the other way. At this point we had been biking for a few hours and we were expecting to be approaching the end of the route so we continued, knowing that all the routes would end in the same place anyway. Sadly the end wasn’t in sight, and after cycling for another half hour we found that we were at the stunt bike track that we had passed before at the beginning of our ride. We had run out of water, were hungry and very tired when Z left me with the tandem to try and find some people to ask for directions. We were both trying to block out the thought that we might have to complete the route again to exit , meaning we would have done roughly sixteen miles on this single track. We asked a Mum who was sitting on a log watching her son do various gravity defying stunts on the course below how to get out. She, in turn, gave a detailed description and then conferred with her son who enthusiastically gave completely different instructions.  Now the only sighted person cycling, Z had to keep looking for orange arrows which apparently indicated an escape. Though the forest was undoubtedly beautiful, there is nothing like burning first to make you want to get out of it. We went down some extremely large hills (thankfully not having to climb up them first) this was perfect because we were both verging on too exhausted to peddle. Luckily by this time I had picked up the queues which meant that Z was slowing down, changing gear, or upping the pace so we dropped the verbal communication we had previously had through the journey to preserve our energy.

Reaching the bike hire building, only minutes before our maximum time was up, we were pleasantly surprised to find that E and S were there and had been for quite some time. It seems that they found some other very large and rocky hills to use as an escape and that they had indeed gone the other way at the cross roads. We were too tired to really comment on this though, and we both reported feeling like we were either going to vomit or cry. After all, myself and Z had done four miles on top of the necessary eight. After ice creams at the visitor’s centre we felt significantly better, and after showers at the campsite (plus spidery companions) our aches and pains from the saddle were quite far out of our minds. There aren’t many things that beat campfire cooked pasta and white sauce either! There are countless moments that I can’t fit in this post, but maybe thats not a bad thing. As I have already said in a previous blog- Dalby is one of my favourite places to just think about the now and to simply ‘be’. But at the weekend I found that it is amazing to be there with friends

Over the next few weeks I am going to be doing a lot of travelling. I could do a big long list of the places I’m going and the things that I am doing there, but it will be more interesting to write about it after (or maybe whilst I am there). I am planning to put my WordPress app on my phone to good use, though it all depends on if I have wifi at the various places I am going. Adventures are ahead and the suitcase is packed… well nearly. Why is my whole life on charge?! Too many wires! I decided to leave the word ‘quick’ in the introduction for irony, I have never seen such a long post!

Four girls on bikes, two sharing a tandem.


Girls sitting outside a tent