Tag Archives: moving

Episode Eighty-Two – Old and New


I’d like to tell you a little story. A little while ago, I was filling in a very demanding job application that required a list of every job I had ever had and of every trip abroad I had ever taken. As you can imagine, this was a complete pain: I had to trawl through emails from years ago, searching for flight confirmations and clues from years-old conversations to pin down the exact date I started X job or moved to Y address.

In doing this, I realised that the emails that I sent to my long-distance partner during that time served as a sort of running commentary on my life; not just on the milestones but on the little things too. Everything was there: my good days, my bad days, my self-depracating humour, my crippling weaknesses, my hopes and dreams for a phantom future I would never, it turns out, live out. It’s comforting to have this log of experiences to look back on, so I can trace what happened when, which decisions I made and why, and how I got to be where I am today.

Since the relationship ended, I have kept no such record of my life. For a whole year, all of the people who were closest to me actually lived close to me – just along the hall or at most a bus ride away. So we would just talk about things in person, and I never had to write it down. But now things have changed again. I’ve moved to Madrid, most of my friends are far away again, and in the meantime I somehow seem to have got involved with another American, who is now back in America. And so today, when I came home from an exciting day of discovering my new home city, my first instinct was to write him an email and tell him all about it. I guess old habits die hard.

But then I stopped and thought for a minute. Why was I relying on him to be the reader of this micro-auto-biography? After all, my incredibly exciting and inspiring day essentially amounted to eating a sandwich and taking a book out from the library. And while I’m confident I could have composed an 1800-word email about it all, was I really doing it because I knew he would be dying to hear my news? Of course not: I was doing it for the simple cathartic release of writing it all down. I was doing it for me. And then I remembered that I have a blog called A Trail of Breadcrumbs whose explicit purpose is to document all of these little things, allowing me to express myself without wittering on to my long-suffering American boyfriends about my mediocre days-in-the-life, and to have a written reminder of what happened when and how and why, so I can read back over it later and trace how my life got to where it is today.

So instead of an email, I’m writing a blog post. A blog post that, of course, didn’t turn out to be about the delicious roast beef sandwich I bought from a food truck at a pop-up street fair, nor about the peaceful library right in the middle of the stunning Parque del Retiro where I obtained my Madrid public library card and borrowed a book by Javier Marías just to force me to go back again. Instead, it turned out to be about everything that’s happened since I stopped writing in here, and everything that’s happened since I started writing in here, and everything I hope might happen if I start writing in here again. Because five years ago, a lost little 17-year-old girl at the start of an exciting new adventure had a premonition: that she would always be a lost little girl, looking for reasons and connections and explanations about her life, and that she would need a blog like this to help her remember where she came from and guide where she was going. And she was right.

Seriously, though, it was a damn good sandwich.

Seriously, though, it was a damn good sandwich.


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Saturday Spotlight Six – Sprucing Up Strasbourg!

Hello, hello, hello.

I’m in a very good mood because today I am off to Germany! That’s right, this place is so near the border that I can actually go to one small town on the other side using my public transport pass for Strasbourg! So, we’re going to pop over to Germany for some cake and coffee, maybe wander around a little, and then come back all in time for dinner. And I have a Skype date tonight with my favourite man, so I’m feeling pretty upbeat.

CRAFTzine does it again! This would be perfect to spruce up my new Strasbourg place.

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Episode Fifty Three – Épisode Cinquante Trois

That’s right, beeches, I’m in France! And not just anywhere in France, either – ohhh no. I’m in Strasbourg, the capital of Alsace, where French meets German, where Council of Europe meets European Parliament, and where I could wander through the streets all day and just take pictures.

As of yet, that has not happened. But it will. I have plenty of time to drink it all in.

I haven't done much photographing, but I had to snap the cathedral!

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Episode Thirty – No Way, San José

If you’ll allow me to backtrack a little, I’ll share with you one of very few photographs I’ve taken from aeroplanes. I took this six months ago (okay, backtrack a lot), when my Christmas return flight ascended over New York City at night.

Do you see why I don't take a lot of aeroplane pictures?

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Episode Twenty Eight – Hours Later

(Twenty Eight Hours Later! Sometimes I really outdo myself. It really was about twenty eight hours between waking up at my grandma’s house and going to bed in San José).

~     *    ~

Let’s play a game. It’s called ‘Testing Your Limits’. Continue reading


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Episode Nine – Life Goes On

Hello to everyone!

So I’m home now.

Well, I say “home”. I’m not anywhere I’ve ever called “home” before. I’m not at my mum’s flat-roofed house in the Borders; I’m not in Robertson’s Close, the place I’d come to call home last year; nor am I even at Grant’s place in Zanesville, which I did catch myself calling “home” a couple of times, even though I guess I didn’t really have any right to. No – I’m at my new flat in Edinburgh, which I’ll be renting out for the coming year with my friend and flatmate from last year, Jenny. But I’m still in this weird interim period before Jenny arrives, living with another friend until the end of the summer, and I’m kind of caught in some weird limbo. Half of my stuff is still not unpacked; I’ve yet to christen the washing machine (although that will need to be done VERY soon); my walls remain empty and I’m in the process of finding a job and settling in to the area. In short – I say I’m “home” but it doesn’t really feel like “home” yet. Continue reading

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Episode Two – Goodbye, Scotland the Brave!

Hello all!

(You know what I mean by “all”).

Today has been long and difficult. It’s 1:37 in the morning and I’ve been up almost a full 12 hours!! The difficulty was that today was Moving Day – I am no longer a resident of Flat 6, 11 Robertson’s Close, Cowgate, Edinburgh, EH1 1LY. I spent the majority of the day packing up my last things, and boy do I have a lot of things! The more I packed away, the more I stumbled across – it was virtually never-ending. But, finally, at around 8:30pm, all my worldly possessions were packed into my grandmother’s car and we carted them off to her house, only to have to unload them all (after a quick cup of tea, of course). Anyway, I’ve spent a few days writing this thing, and it’s been sitting unposted for a while – having said all that about “today”, I’m actually chilling at Grant’s in Z-Town as we speak – so the comments I make about the “present” etc. might seem a little weird. I’m sure you’ll manage to deal with it.

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