Scarlett View…

It has occurred to me that somewhere, in the last couple of years, I seem to have placed less and less value on the things that used to dominate my life. Glamour, nights out and what people think, for example. Somewhere between 26-29 I’ve reverted back into the grubby footed, mud-pie making, unwashed urchin of my younger days.

Some of you may argue I’ve always been a grubby footed urchin, but others may care to remember there was once a day I dreamed of big lights and champagne nights. I spent the majority of my early twenties stumbling through London, Liverpool and Manchester in 6 inch heels, clutching my little clipboard and organising parties and catwalk shows for fancy people in fancy clothes expecting fancy drinks for free.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t like a party, I just don’t like that kind of party anymore. Somewhere along the line the bright lights of the city stopped being alluring and started making me claustrophobic. I’m fucking bored. My early-20s party girl dream. It should have been filed under ‘not as good as I thought it would be’ years ago…

Maybe I’m finally turning into my mother? Or maybe I’m just actually being myself.

Last week I planted corn in the South of France – albeit ‘too close together’ as I was later informed by said mother. I cut up logs, picked courgettes, drank wine and wakesurfed for the first time. Things by 24 year old self would have rolled her immaculately painted eyes at. Things I would happily do every day now.

It’s strange, your twenties. You surprise yourself.

outdoors blogger

Until next time… x


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