Hi friends!!! Welcome back to another instalment of “Hannah and Mathews escapades abroad”. It’s a working title – not sure it’ll catch on.
I’m playing catch up with these diary entries. SO, you’ll have seen me in your inbox twice this week – lucky you!
This week we’ve swapped sandy Portuguese shores and sun-soaked days for towering mountain peaks, endless cups of tea, and discovering the unexpected joys of a soggy British summer.
Lots of love and big hugs x
- Wednesday 26th July
- Thursday 27th July
- Friday 28th July
- Saturday 29th July
- Sunday 30th July
- Monday 31st July
- Tuesday 1st August
Wednesday 26th July
Another day, another week away! We’ve been back in England for two days and have reacquainted ourselves with that quintessential British weather: rain, rain, and more rain. But today, it’s as if the weather gods have decided to put on a show for us. So, we’re off to reunite with my lovely Mum’s side of the family for the first time since setting foot on home turf.
I grew up spending lots of time with my Nan when I was very small. So much, in fact that I think I saw her more than my Dad. She felt (and still does in some ways) like a bonus parent; a safety net and warm blanket. Just the thought of her envelops me in a comforting wave of love.
We used to live so close to each other, and when my parents were at work, she’d sweep me away for delightful adventures. We’d head to the cinema or she’d pick me up from school for an afternoon feeding the ducks. On special days, she’d spoil me by taking me on excursions to Windsor. We’d sit at a café, her with a cappuccino and me with a hot chocolate. I can still recall the sensation of sipping my drink, just about eye-level with the table, as she regaled me with stories from her own childhood and my mom’s. These cherished moments etched core memories in my heart that I frequently revisit.
Now that I’m older, I love being just down the road from her again, able to turn the tables and take her out this time instead.
Mathew and I arrived in Datchet early to walk down the Thames Path. If you haven’t walked the Thames Path, it’s a gorgeous (when sunny!) walk that stretches for miles down by the River Thames. We only did a quick hour and a half today, but you could walk for miles and miles.
We walked for another twenty minutes before we stumbled upon the best-looking blackberry bush I’ve seen in a while. It completely slipped my mind that summer in England marks the blackberry season.
It was one of my favourite activities as a child – blackberry picking with my mum nearby our old house, and my dad hoisting me onto his shoulders to pluck apples from our garden tree. We’d transform our harvest into the most scrumptious blackberry and apple crumble for dinner – or sometimes mum would serve them stewed with ice cream (my absolute favourite). Sometimes I stop and think about my life and it dawns on me that I had the best childhood any girl could have ever wished for. I couldn’t have been luckier if I had tried.
After Mathew’s excitement over his impromptu snack of blackberries had subsided, we turned back to pick up Nan. Our plan for the day? Lunch at the Windsor Farm Shop. If you’ve been following my diary entries since the start of our trip (thanks for being here!), you’ll know we’ve been here once before in May, and I must admit, I’m head over heels for the food here. While I firmly believe that nothing can top my mum’s cooking, the prawn cocktail sandwiches at Windsor Farm Shop come close. Dare you to prove me wrong!
After lunch, we gave Nan a big cuddle and drove back to Grandma and Grandpas house where we’ll be staying for the rest of our time in England. I’m so lucky to have such a wonderful bunch of grandparents.
This evening, we indulged in what can only be described as a royally British affair: David Attenborough, the cricket scores, a game of chess and a cracking roast dinner. You just can’t beat it. See you tomorrow!
Thursday 27th July
They say that when you go traveling, your body moves in more ways than it does back home. I’d like to think of myself as fairly active at home and love spending early weekend mornings at Pilates. But nothing could have prepared me for the sheer amount of walking you do overseas. However, things have slowed down a bit since arriving in England. So, I’ve made it a point to keep up my step count after 2.5 months of my Apple Health Tracker screaming, ‘Good God, woman, what’s going on?’ as we logged our 97824398th consecutive day of clocking up 25,000 steps. I’m not sure how long this resolve will last, but my efforts are valiant, and today, I’m venturing out for my first run in ages.
I got really into running last year and gave it my all. I’d never been much of a runner, but one day, I made up my mind to train for the Coatesville Half Marathon. I downloaded the Nike Running app and fell head over heels in love with it. I quickly became addicted to that feeling of pushing your body past what you thought it was capable of. Before I knew it, I was spending my weekends waking up early to run 10, 17, or even 20 kilometers. I don’t want to brag, but I got pretty good at it. That’s the surprising part. I didn’t expect to excel at running. I’d given myself six months to train, but in just two, I was running half marathons every other week. I even began training for a Lake Tarawera Marathon in Rotorua.
Then, I got plantar fasciitis. It hurt like nobody’s business and I spent almost three months lathering Voltaren gel on my feet. My far-away girlish dream of crossing the finishing line of a marathon race to my beaming parents was very quickly extinguished.
Anyway, I haven’t done much running since those days, but this morning, I decided to give it another shot. I had forgotten how incredible that runner’s high feels. It must be up there in the top five feelings in the world.
Mathew joined me halfway for a few laps around town, and then we headed out to do a spot of shopping in Bracknell to pick up a special 85th birthday present for my Grandpa.
I was in England back in 2018 on my last OE (yes, you can have two!), and I was fortunate enough to spend his 80th birthday with him. My trip was a surprise and to this day, I’ll never forget the look on his face as he walked through the kitchen door and found me sitting at the dinner table. I travelled over with my Dad and five years on, I still think about leaving home at nineteen with nothing but my suitcase and Dad as my temporary safety net. That time is one of my most special memories and I wish I could convey in words how much that experience meant to me. If you reading this, Dad, thank you. I love you so much.
Living and growing up overseas is a unique experience because you inevitably lose some of the close connections you might have with family back in your home country. It was challenging to come to terms with the fact that I wouldn’t have the same relationships with my grandparents as my cousins do, simply because I didn’t see them as often. That’s not to say I don’t have a strong bond with them, though. I love them more than anything in the world. We’re fortunate that they visit us once a year or two, and the time we spend together is the epitome of quality over quantity.
So, I’m incredibly grateful to be celebrating another birthday with my Grandpa. And now, we’re off to pick out a shirt for him – wish me luck!
Friday 28th July
Friday, baby! Woohoo! Even though our life feels like a never-ending summer holiday, there’s something special in the air when Friday rolls around. It’s the excitement of people getting ready for the weekend, packing their bags for quick getaways, clocking off early for after-work drinks, or simply looking forward to a well-deserved lay-in.
This morning started with another walk around Wokingham. This time, however, Mathew was in charge of the directions and took us on a tiki tour through the country fields. We ended up walking 12km and by 10am, my little legs were tired.
When we first arrived in England earlier this year, I impulsively signed us up for Three UK sim cards. Honestly, it was because they were the first provider I spotted at the airport (and the most budget-friendly). To our delight, we discovered that our phone plan came with discounts at various restaurants, cafes, and cinemas across the UK. One of our favourites is Café Nero, where we can grab a coffee for just £1 each week – result! And the best part? You can customise your drink with as many shots, different types of milk, and syrups as your heart desires, all free of charge.
Naturally, we wrapped up our walk with a visit to the café, and Mathew took full advantage of the unlimited extras with a triple shot coffee and caramel oat milk frappuccino, topped with extra whipped cream and caramel drizzle. Try saying that three times fast. Way to make the most of your money, love.
This afternoon, we were off to the pub for lunch. Tomato and ham sandwiches were on the menu and I’ve got to say, they were delish. Who knew something as simple as the humble tomato could taste this good slapped between two bits of brown bread with a bit of s&p.
After a food coma and exercised induced lazy afternoon it was time for tea. As if we hadn’t already been fed like foes gras ducks all day, Grandma and Grandpa, Mathew and I piled into the car and ventured back out into Wokingham for dinner at the same Spanish restaurant we went to for lunch the other day. Lucky us!!
Saturday 29th July
Saturday 29th July. Today is a day I’ve been looking forward to for a veryyy long time.
Do you remember the excitement of being a kid and going on a school trip? The days leading up to the big adventure were filled with gossip among friends, outfit planning, and choosing the perfect pair of shoes. Then, on the eve of the school trip, sleep was elusive – you were just too excited. Well, I’m feeling a bit like that kid today. It’s currently 5:45 am, and I’m up with the birds. In the corner of the room, my outfit for the day is neatly laid out, and I can hear the gentle sounds of Mathew’s snores, signaling that in his world, it’s still midnight.
This morning, we’re hitting the road, heading north to Borrowdale in the Lake District to spend a week in a charming mountainside cottage.
My family and I used to come to the Lake District once a year or so when I was a little girl. The Lakes hold such special memories. My Dads side of the family would get together and trundle north from London for a week of hiking, eating and spending good old-fashioned quality time together.
I adored every minute of those trips, except for the hiking part. I wasn’t a fan of walking. Well, “hate” might be too strong of a word, but I certainly didn’t look forward to it like everyone else did. I didn’t get the appeal of dressing in your scruffiest clothes, venturing out into the cold (often rainy) outdoors, and subjecting yourself to 6-8 hours of scrambling over rocks with nothing but a sandwich at the half way point.
But, the many (and lord knows there were many) weekends my family spent tramping through the Okura Bush Walk left a mark on me. Now, hiking is my absolute favourite thing in the world. I love it so much that Mathew and I have planned many of our travels around it – from the Dolomites to Madeira, and later this year, Scotland.
As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to realise that the great outdoors is for everyone. You don’t need to be an ultra-marathon athlete, decked out in head-to-toe Gore-Tex with a waterproof map dangling from your neck to enjoy being outside. It’s not an all-or-nothing proposition; it’s about relishing the feeling of icy-cold wind on your cheeks, watching them turn from golden-brown to rosy-pink in an instant. Or perhaps, you love the feeling of standing atop a mountain, gazing down at the world below and finding your place in the universe, recognising how small you truly are. For me, it’s the sheer joy of pushing my body past its limits. The more I walk, the more I love it, and I think that’s what makes it so special.
So this morning we had breakfast, packed our lunch and kissed my grandparents goodbye (but not for long – they’re joining us on Monday!) and started our drive north. The sun was out and as the weather has been diabolical for the last week, we decided to make an impromptu detour through the Cotswolds.
Although this was beautiful (seriously, stunning; we’re going to come back later this month!), we had forgotten that it was school holidays. We were quickly scooped up into what one can only describe as a never-ending traffic jam.
The day passed in a blur of roadworks, Birmingham accents, and pit stops for snacks (baby carrots and Party Rings are top-tier road trip snacks, and I won’t hear otherwise) before finally arriving in Borrowdale at 7 pm.
Exhausted and travel-weary, we were both craving a hot shower and something to eat. In true ‘Misery Camping’ fashion (if you know, you know), our host had left a charming little note, informing us that if we desired hot water (who in their right mind would want a cold shower?), all we needed to do was flip a switch and patiently wait a cool 12 hours for the hot water cylinder to heat up. All I can say is thank god Grandma and Grandpa are joining us on Monday; I think Grandma might have had a cardiac arrest.
So, it’s a freezing cold shower for two this evening, wonderful, closely followed by dinner. Tonights menu is a gourmet eggs and beans on toast creation followed by a graceful fall into our (exceptionally) comfy bed. See you tomorrow!
Sunday 30th July
The Lake District, with its rolling hills and dramatic landscapes, seems oddly beautiful even when shrouded in the gloomy grey of the British sky. Gazing out the window, I feel like I should be right in the middle of The Shire or serving as an extra in Lord of the Rings, eagerly awaiting the sight of Dwarfs and Hobbits embarking on an adventure across nearby fields.
Despite the gloom, we’re determined to make the most of our first free day in The Lakes. So, we head towards Keswick to explore the stunning shores of Derwentwater. It’s absolutely freezing, and our outfits are a far cry from what we were wearing while walking in Madeira, but I couldn’t be happier.
The Dewentwater trail is well paved, flat (score) and stretches 15km around the lake. I love walks like these on your first day because they allow you to see a lot of the area in one go and pick out spots you want to return to later in the week.
We pass through farmland, ancient woodlands, and along the serene shores of the lake, all the while taking in the ridiculously stunning scenery.
It quickly dawns on me that the last time I was here, I was too young to truly appreciate the beauty of the Lake District. The rolling hills, the rugged stone walls, the quaint cottages, and the oak trees that frame the lakes – it’s a picture-perfect scene. Now that I’m back, I feel like I can fully savor it. It’s a bit like Queenstown meets Arrowtown and Lake Hayes. I had many conversations with my Dad before coming here; he’s been visiting Borrowdale since he was a child, and being here feels like a special connection to him. I’d sell my left arm to be able to zap him and my Mum here, just for a day.
Four hours pass in a blur as we chat about everything under the sun (it seems to be a recurring theme these days), and before I know it, we’re back in Keswick. We venture into town in search of a supermarket stocked with cake-baking supplies. Grandpa’s birthday is tomorrow (that’s why we’re here), and I’ve made it clear that he won’t be arriving without a party – cake included!
Lemon cake is on the menu and I spend the rest of the evening cooking up as storm in the kitchen, filling the house with a sweet lemony scent. I could get used to it here.
Monday 31st July
In true Lake District fashion, this morning’s weather forecast reads ‘rain, rain, and more rain.’ If you know Mathew, you’ll know that he cherishes coziness above all else. Rainy days snuggled inside with a cup of tea and a board game? Pure heaven. A white Christmas gathered around a log fire? He’s all in. Waking up in a warm, squishy bed to the sound of a storm raging against your windows? Sign him up immediately. So, you can imagine that this morning was his idea of paradise.
The light rain from yesterday has quickly transformed into a relentless downpour, which means no outdoor activities today, except perhaps a stroll around Keswick.
While some might argue that we should make the most of it and venture out despite the weather, I’m not wired that way. Frankly, I can’t think of anything worse. Luckily for me, Mathew tends to be on the same wavelength when it comes to days like this. So instead of hiking, he’s got his heart set on one thing: a pot of tea and a slice of cake. Go on love, twist my arm.
We arrive in Keswick just before lunchtime after after a delicious morning snuggled in bed. Instead of heading back towards the lake, we opt for the opposite direction, exploring the heart of town. Keswick, a major town in the Lake District, exudes quaintness and old-world charm. Tea rooms, souvenir shops, and local stores line the cobblestone streets, and I can’t help but wonder what it was like when my Dad was here at my age.
Because it’s the school holidays, the town is humming. Some might find the crowds off-putting, but I think the bustling activity adds to the town’s charm. Little old ladies carrying their shopping, families kitted out in waterproof gear and hiking boots, couples strolling hand in hand as if they were the only two people in the world – it’s all so sweet.
Because we’re travelling hand luggage only, we don’t have much room for souviners. That’s not to say, however, that we don’t want to take things home with us. So instead of collecting big, hefty things, we’ve been collecting stickers postcards and sew-on patches. Before we came travelling, we moved home to save for our first home. The cooked housing market in NZ put those plans on hold for a while, but I have a vision of all of our patches and stickers, framed and hanging up in our first home where we can look at them and reminisce about our gap year together.
We’ve stumbled upon a few shops that carry the kind of souvenirs we’re after, but none are as impressive or as squeal worth as Conquer UK. This shop boasts every imaginable souvenir, and I may or may not have accidentally spent my entire life savings here – oops!
After dropping a small fortune in Conquer (support local businesses, right?) it was time for the promised pot of tea and slice of cake. The rain was coming down which and fast so we ducked into Honey Tea Rooms. As soon as we walked through the door we were greeted by the smell of fresh cakes and a roaring fire. Ahhhh. Mathew, our self-proclaimed afternoon tea expert, ordered us a pot of English Breakfast tea and a slice of house cake. To my delight, it was a luscious chocolate fudge cake. Life doesn’t get much better than this!
We whiled away a few hours cozied up inside before heading back home to ensure we were there when Grandma and Grandpa arrived. They made it just after 6 pm, and after presenting Grandpa with his gifts and a birthday hug, Mathew and I took charge of dinner.
It was so nice to bustle around the kitchen and do some cooking together. I do almost all of my families cooking when I’m at home and being away has really made me realise how much I love cooking and entertaining people. I love it. The preparation and art of carefully selecting what dishes you’re going to cook; laying the table and making something that’s a little bit special so that your guests feel really important.
(Mum and Josh, if you’re reading this, start counting down the days till you’re relieved of all dinner duties and living a life full of meal plans and freshly baked bread – okay?)
Potatoes, steak and salad was on the menu tonight and I’ve got to give a special shoutout to Mathew who gets an award for cooking a perfect medium rare number under a sweat inducing amount of pressure.
The rest of our evening floated by full of laughter and conversation (and of course, more cake) before we rolled ourselves upstairs ready for bed and a big day tomorrow. Night night x
Tuesday 1st August
If someone had told 14-year-old Hannah that in ten years’ time, I’d willingly sign up to conquer England’s tallest mountain, I would have burst out laughing. If you had added that we’d be doing it in the midst of a torrential downpour, I would have questioned your sanity.
While we’re in the UK, Mathew and I have set ourselves the challenge of conquering the nation’s three peaks: Ben Nevis in Scotland, Snowdon in Wales, and today, Scafell Pike in England. Lucky for us, my aunt and uncle are as mad as we are and decided to join us on this little escapade. Thanks, guys!
After a spot of breakfast (and a map reading session which I left to the men of the family) we left home and drove to Seathwaite Campsite – the start to track. I’ve heard that there are a few different ways up the mountain, but apparently this Seathwaite via the Corridore route is the one to do up if you’re only going to do the walk once. I’m not sure if we’ll ever be back here to do it again so are opting for go big or go home.
We said goodbye to Grandpa (who very kindly dropped us at the start of the track) and began our walk through farmland along River Derwent. To say that the walk is very wet would have been the understatement of the century.
We quickly realise that the amount of rain the Lake District has had over the last few days means every path is flooded and has turned into a river. Water flows freely from every single avenue and it’s not long before my gortex (yes, gortex) boots are filled with water and my socks well and truly saturated.
An hour into our ascent, we reach Styhead, and the drizzle escalates into a full-blown storm. At this point, you can’t help but laugh. It’s a tad masochistic, really – voluntarily hiking up the highest peak in England just to say you’ve done it, when you can’t even see ten feet in front of you.
The rain eases off a bit and I’ve got to say it’s bloody beautiful here even if it is a bit soggy. I was expecting this walk to be really steep and difficult, but it’s honestly not bad at all. The worst bit is navigating all of the puddles and clambering over the rocks.
After three hours of relentless uphill climbing, we scramble up the Corridor Route and finally reach the summit.
As you might guess, the weather means there’s not a view to be had. Nonetheless, I’m immensely proud of myself and my body for bringing me up here. All the walking we’ve done over the last three months is really paying off, and I feel like I’ve reached a level of fitness where I could theoretically tackle almost any walk with sheer willpower and determination. How cool is that?
We spot the Scafell Pike Summit Cairn, and my auntie Maz and I snap a photo at the top. It mirrors the one she and my lovely mum took when they reached the summit of Snowdon in 2011, which I find incredibly special. Ahhh, how I miss her.
Lunchtime strikes and we unpack our packed lunches and enjoy a quick break with our ham and cheese sandwiches. The weather at the summit is bitterly cold, and since we’re soaked to the bone, we layer up and decide to keep moving. You don’t realize how quickly your body temperature drops until you stop moving. It’s funny how, in less than 10 days, I’ve gone from lounging on the beach in just a bikini to being bundled up in the middle of a storm, wearing four layers. That’s British weather for you.
After lunch we begin to make our way back down the mountain. It’s tough going. The rocks are slippery and we’re walking down a scree field. To our dismay, Mathew realises 10 minutes into our descent that we’ve come off course and are walking down towards Wasdale, rather than Seathwaite. Thank goodness for All Trails and Mathew’s navigation skills; that would have been a very miserable extra two hour hike around the base of the mountain.
Three hours later, we arrive back at the base of the mountain. I’m cold, tired, and hungry, but absolutely ecstatic to tick another hike off my bucket list. We’re a bit early for our 5 pm Grandpa Taxi pickup, and since we’re only 45 minutes from home, we collectively decide that after already walking for 6.5 hours today, what’s a bit more?
I must have missed a memo because apparently, this final push is a race to the finish line and Giles has decided to take up a new career in Olympic Speed Walking. I’d like to think I can walk quickly, but at 5 foot 5, my legs reach their top speed a little earlier than everyone else’s. Thankfully, halfway back to the cottage, we spot Grandpa racing down to Seathwaite, and we all pile into his warm, dry car. Now, it’s home time for a hot shower!
This evening we all met up for dinner at The Swan in Grassmere. My perfect day is a long walk, preferably one that makes you feel absolutely knackered by the end of it, followed by a cosy dinner somewhere nice. So, this is my idea of heaven. There’s just something about a classic English pub and, as he’s a beer-lover, I’m so pleased that Mathew’s getting to go on a grand tour of them whilst we’re here. Mathew’s fish and chips was the size of my head and to be frank, I can’t think of any better way to end a long, wet, tiring day than a pint of beer and a giant portion of chips.
And with that, I’m off to bed; I can barely keep my eyes open! See you next week x
Notes to Home 