England, Wales & The In-Between

I was supposed to land in Paris.

Instead, I got a lesson in aviation vocabulary I never asked for: apparently seats can come with a hazard. A hazard. Whatever that means. After briefly channeling my inner Karen (respectfully), I was moved onto a flight to Amsterdam instead.

Fine. Six hours in the Centurion Lounge would fly by... right? Should I work? Be productive? Answer emails? Absolutely not.

Pinterest was calling my name, the World Cup was playing in the background, and for a moment I convinced myself the travel gods had finally stopped playing with me. They hadn't.

Boarding was delayed, of course it was, which meant missing my connection to Manchester. Another seven hours in Amsterdam airport. By the end of it, I knew the gift shop better than some of the employees. If you've ever done long distance, you'll understand why I wasn't just annoyed. Every delayed hour feels stolen. Every minute matters when the person you're flying across countries for is waiting on the other side.

Eventually...Manchester. Finally. Callum.

There's something about Manchester that keeps pulling me back. Maybe it's because it holds pieces of the life we're slowly building together. Maybe it's because every street reminds me of a memory. Or maybe it's simply because he's there. Whatever it is, the city has become magnetic to me.

The next day was exactly how I like cities to be explored: no rush, no strict itinerary.

Blank Street matcha? Obviously. Selfridges? Obviously. Just wandering.

Then, a few days later, Callum looked at me and said:

"Pack a bag, we're going to Wales."

Now, there are many ways to make me excited.

But telling me we're heading somewhere nicknamed the land of castles? That might just be the quickest.

If you know me at all, you know I have a completely unreasonable love for medieval history. Castles, old stones, forgotten legends... I eat that up.

Our first stop was Conwy Castle.

Completely breathtaking.

And can we take a moment for the Welsh language? Every sign looked like someone had enchanted the alphabet. I loved every second of trying (and failing) to pronounce absolutely anything.

Thank you again, Callum, for somehow always managing to surprise me.

Just when I thought the day couldn't get any better, he casually mentioned another castle nearby.

"Want to go?"

Well... obviously.

Penrhyn Castle somehow became my favorite of the two. Walking through it, I kept thinking that in another lifetime I absolutely would've lived there. Preferably in an enormous dress with dramatic sleeves and zero responsibilities.

But somehow...

The best surprise still hadn't happened. The Airbnb.

Imagine a tiny hobbit house tucked beside a river, surrounded by greenery, with some incredibly opinionated sheep providing the soundtrack to your evening.

That's exactly where we stayed.

Callum lit the fire (because let's be honest, I would've somehow turned it into a safety hazard too), we roasted marshmallows, and spent the evening talking about Welsh folklore.

It was one of those nights that doesn't need anything extraordinary to become unforgettable.

Just a fire. A river. A good conversation. The person you love.

After Wales, we headed back to Manchester before spending a few days in Sheffield visiting Callum's family, who I'm so fond of.

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Then came something I had been secretly looking forward to for weeks.

I got to take Callum to his very first live musical.

Sweeney Todd at Birmingham Rep. I spent the entire performance wondering if he'd actually enjoy it or if I'd accidentally guaranteed that he'd never agree to another musical for the rest of his life.

Thankfully... he loved it.

(Birmingham was beautiful too, which certainly helped.)

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Before I knew it, we were back in Manchester for our last few days together.

And, naturally, dinner at Cibo was non-negotiable. Some places quietly become part of your story. Cibo is one of ours.

Now, as I write this, I'm sitting in Charles de Gaulle Airport waiting for my next flight.

This morning involved far too many tears at Manchester Airport. Long distance never really gets easier. You just get better at reminding yourself why it's worth it. And for the first time in a long time, saying goodbye felt different. Because we're getting close. Really close.

Close enough that "see you soon" is slowly becoming "we won't have to do this much longer."

The countdown has finally started.

So, to Callum

Thank you for every surprise, every castle, every matcha, every musical, every road trip, every fire you lit because you knew I couldn't, every memory that somehow made England feel a little more like home.

I love you.

And thank you for reading all the way to the end.

Or, as the Welsh would say... Diolch. 🤍