Going solo

In life, I feel like most of us demand independence. Fresh out of school, maybe after time spent living with family, any situation - we want to go solo. I'm learning about the joys & hardship of being 'solo', all the time...

Where the fuck did a week go? Surely the earliest swear I've had in any of my blogs; don't use AI, search it up for yourself...lol. Solo, not only a great song by Frank Ocean, but a great feeling. A hard feeling. Honestly a crushing feeling. Also, one of the most liberating feelings ever. Liberating yet isolating? Oxymoronic, surely?

Time is flying by, and when I see that I refer to something like a SR-71 Blackbird, rather than your standard passenger jet. For non-aviation fans, basically, the SR-71 was an avionic beast. Speed, unimaginable surveillance abilities at the time, just iconic. A passenger jet, yeah it's cool, but kinda slow. Life is the SR-71 - both incredible & somewhat unimaginable to my past self, but going at ridiculous speeds. This week, given that, I asked myself: How do I want to spend these last couple of months? 

I decided against working till I leave, and decided for another trip - one last trip. Solo.

The 'sort of solo' trip

Saying you're going to Australia alone, solo, is somewhat an ego boost. I'm far more in tune with the desires of my ego, it's limitations but also the times it oversteps and causes issues. It's important - I think - we all recognise its value, good and bad, in our lives. But the saying of solo-travelling, it puts you on a pedestal, right? "Yeah, at 20 I solo-travelled Australia," and it kind of got me thinking, do you ever really "solo" travel? Like is that even remotely fully possible?

You might flat out reply "well, of course?!" But I don't think it is as simple as that. Without being too much of a smart-arse, what about the people who helped you get from A to B, and eventually C? That mate who shared a ride with you to the next state in some rusty old shitbox. The person who layed out their travel plans, and somehow inspired you to go somewhere you never expected, in a way perhaps you never considered? How about that? Yes, you may be 'solo', just you travelling, but those contributions, they make it somewhat more than solo. A sort of middle-ground between solo, and non-solo travelling. Sorry, I must've said the word 'solo' about a million times now, you get the point.

My first day away from my parents, early June 2025, in the Gatwick Airport vicinity, I remember it so well. An ill-fitting Hollister shirt, a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms, and my trusty Nike air forces - a black Dickies jumper, the cherry on the cake for a rubbish outfit. I was comfy though, and that's all that mattered. A brief dinner, watching the Champions League final, and then to bed. The next 30 hours I was completely alone from anyone I knew. The terminal was initially empty, but soon absolutely teaming - people everywhere, a beautiful beige-livery Airbus pulls up. Next thing you know, after several (too many) Beers with some fellow Brits, a sign of a good start to the holiday, we landed in Doha. The lads left to Thailand, I was once again, solo. Sydney now beckoned; a huge double-decker plane, two seats to myself, and several whisky's before a small nap. "Sir, it is dinner time," I'd be woken up to. Eat, film, football manager. "Sir, you're breakfast.." Fuck. Food, again? Eaten, and sleep. On and off, over and over. Eventually Sydney was there, in the window, albeit pitch black. Greasy, some prawn curry on my - thankfully - Red Football shirt, but somewhat surviving. After some direction, I made it to the domestic terminal for my next flight. A 2 hour wait, before flying North to Gold Coast. Screaming kids, they had no chance of waking me up. I was, as the Brits say, "conked" out for the best part of an hour. "Seatbelts on, sir, seatbelts on - we are descending," what? We just left, didn't we? The people next to me laughed as I see a wet patch on my leg. No, it wasn't piss, you child, but it would appear I slept well. I was dribbling like I'd been sedated. A zoo animal being moved to a new enclosure; perhaps my hair just resembled a recently out of hibernation black bear. Anyway, the point of that long sort of soliloquy? Until January, that was essentially the last time I was completely solo when travelling. June to January, non-solo, but sort of solo. 

We have to, as travellers, recognise those who make this trip - the people who start it off, the people who finish it. The "in-betweeners," and I don't mean innuendo-telling bad dancers - a night at the Ivy in Sydney has plenty of that - but more the people you meet passing through, they leave an impact, and some day you realise how important they were. The "moment-eers," lets call them - there for a moment, but leave you with thoughts you never considered. All these people who played a part. Are you ever really solo? I guess not. 

Bec, as much as we fell out, gave me my first look at Australia as a 19-year old looking to explore the world. Her kids, with no exaggeration, opened my eyes to what fatherhood would one day look like. Hazel, Bec's mother, a somewhat impartial voice who just wanted to see me smile. Mikey showed me the joys of football coaching, managing people, but also an example of what a great person & father looks like. Coren for - albeit a stint - showing me some sights I never expected; Mt Jerusalem, a busy night at the rails pub, fun times. Matt took me under his wing, often I was his bitch, he will tell you the same I'm sure, but he made me feel part of something - we were both very much open with eachother, and his friendship helped me so much. It still does. Jada for her caring nature, honest outlook on things, briefly her love. Soon enough, Dec, my best mate, coming 10,000+ miles to experience this with me, feel hardship with me, laugh with me, share awkward moments with me, and discover what being 'brothers' means. Eventually, my first job at ESM - everyone there - albeit I look back and realise that, perhaps, they aren't the people I thought in some respects, it taught me a lot. I needed that. Finally, there's too many to name, but everyone at Cabana, most notably Danny and Santi - without those two, I wouldn't be here.

See all those names? Over 10 just named. Probably in the 40's for people in the organisations mentioned. Yes, I'm somewhat solo, but the impact they had, they made this trip amazing. Starters, (not quite yet) finishers, in-betweeners, 'moment-eers' - all there. Contributing in their own, strange, often wonderful ways. How lucky I am. 

I guess I'm alone now, in this exact moment, in my sharehouse, cooking a "random shit from my cupboard" pasta, a special round here. But really, I'm never alone. Again, how lucky.

The regular, please

I never actually say this. No way am I that pretentious in my expectation that someone would remember my order. That being said, every time I walk into the coffee shop nearby, I don't even need to ask for my order. A simple handshake with, who I assume to be the shop manager if not the owner, and boom - the contactless machine is looking at me like a dog does when it wants to eat some of your dinner. Speaking of that, how I miss my pup, 'Bee', those staffie eyes, I always give in. Bless her.

BACK TO THE POINT...I don't want to get upset about my pet...the Café. Have found myself there much more recently. Why? My room has been sort of messy, my own fault, but in fairness I'm starting to sell and get rid of stuff for when I leave. Eight weeks, not that I'm counting, but yeah, shit needs to happen! As a treat for all my "hard work", which is typically taking three photos to put on Depop (clothes selling site), and chucking old paper bags in the bin, I've decided the café a short waddle from the front door would be my new shrine. 

It was the same back in Byron Bay; a rainy day lead me to a "back alley" coffee shop. Small, cute, with sort of wooden-crate-like seats outside, a small egyptian cushion cover, and some brilliant service. I went in daily after this for maybe, 2 months? Açai bowl & flat white. Yeah, that's probably where most of my savings went to be fair. Do I regret it? Fuck no. You've got one life, eat frozen Açai yogurt with fresh fruit, coconut shavings and chia seeds, while sipping a flat white. You deserve it. Maybe even post it on your Instagram story like the cool person you are. Not pretentious by the way, just suuuuper cool. I guess in a way, I've transferred my former attachment issues with people to coffee shops - what an idea. I highly recommend it!

Today's venture was somewhat somber though. My favourite book I've ever read, 'Kitchen Confidential', came to a close. I stepped out of the house and immediately, the weather reflected how I felt about finishing the book. For most of my life, teachers have rammed down my throat the prospect of how good books are. To be honest, sorry if I sound like an arse, but I don't want to read some bullshit lecture, or random literature; I want something meaningful to me, I don't need to relate to it directly, but something that tells a story, preferably non-fiction, something I learn from. Anthony Bourdain, in the book, described from essentially his youth up until his later age his journey in the - as he describes it - culinary underbelly. Working in the shittest of the shit, higher-end New York joints, Japan, France, all over the place. The book, even though I cannot relate to a relentless heroin & general drug addiction, severe lack of sleep, marriage, Ecuadorian sous-chefs and experiences with some interesting bosses (i'm lucky), it did hit me somewhere on the relatability scale. How Anthony Bourdain viewed passion; his complete lust for cooking, a passion born from a French holiday, how he views his colleagues, it makes me feel a certain way. A big take away? Albeit probably indirect, as I'm sure he'd give zero shits about me coaching football, it made me imagine the kitchen as my team - how do I treat others? What should I expect of them? But also the journey to get what you want from something you're passionate about; I love how jagged, imperfect and borderline ugly his journey was in a lot of respects. No 'happy ending,' no bullshit, just his life, how he lived it, unapologetically himself - surely that is something we all want?

Off the top of my head, I couldn't tell you who William Feather is/was, however I can share his wisdom as provided to me by an English teacher once: "Finishing a good book is like leaving a friend."

I feel ridiculous saying I feel aggrieved that the book is over, I suppose that is just one way of saying it had an impact. I got a tattoo, partially because of the book, in tribute to both Anthony Bourdain, his impact on me, but also what hospitality means to my family.

My family have been in the hospitality business - starting with my late grandfather, god bless him, Neil - back in, I believe the 80's or 90's? What I know for sure is, he built what is now our family's pub from a derelict, crappy old joint, into a traditional, perhaps more upmarket venture, which services locals, connoisseurs nationwide, train-users, dog-lovers, you name it. Hospitality is in my blood, I've seen only a fraction of how hard my Grandad, Grandma and Mum had to work to make it what it is, and maintain the standards it achieves, but every day I feel proud to be able to observe that from the position I can.

Plus, if David Attenborough, THE David Attenborough, has poured a pint behind the bar, then you've probably got a good pub on your hands. 

So, yes, the book does relate to me. Maybe not so indirectly.

All honesty in saying this, with bias aside, the best book I have ever read - never have I got through one that quick either. Every morning I could, in that Café, watched by a beautiful Oat Cappucino & slice of Banana bread, extra buttery - that was all just the cherry on the cake. Sublime.

I'm going to read way more, starting some time weeks ago, declared now.

Worry less, do more

You know me well by now, at least I hope so. You know I procrastinate, some weeks more than others, sure, but lately I've been better. One flaw I have is that if I'm not procrastonating, I sometimes fall into the mistake of impulsivity - a dangerous action.

I was sort of impulsive this weekend, and while I don't really care, with respect, if you think it's a good idea or not, I've booked a trip away - the last one before I go home - 'solo'. Melbourne. Everyone raves about it's coffee, night-scene, people, maybe not so much its weather, but whenever I ask someone they say: "You'll LOVE it," now I can't hear capital letters, but trust me if you heard them, you'd feel the emphasis too. 

WA (West Australia), Brisbane, Gold Coast, Noosa, Sydney, that's where I've been. Less specific relating to the area, but that's where I've been. There is still a shit ton to explore, but I won't have the time - this time over anyway. Melbourne was a must, I wasn't sure when I'd do it, but one night, on my day off, I thought "fuck it." I have no idea what life will throw at me, this year has been a mix of everything, but why not give it a go? I can afford it, it's mid-April, weather will be 'meh', but what an experience. I worry too much about the cost, why not just do it? I promised you I'd take more risks, well here I am.

I have no concrete plans except this; an early morning flight to Melbourne, an uber to the CBD and a check-in to my Airbnb. That is it. After that, the reverse, an uber to the airport, a flight home [Sydney], and then back to the house it is. 

After that? Who knows. The last 2.5/3 weeks of the 'holiday'. I've never been away longer than a week, it's always been Europe too, awesome place, but this has been the real test. Plus, what a mad place you're living in when you have to fly between cities?! Crazy. 

So yeah, I'm going to worry less about the time I have left, the money in some respects, or commitments, and just do more. Have fun. Life is far too short - go and have a bit of fun.

This week take aways

I'm always learning, and being here has been a lot about learning of my own potential, things I can do better at, general reflections, you know? One thing I definitely need to do more is stock my fridge. Going to Woolies at 11pm is no fun. Or is it? Maybe I'm just being grumpy, lol.

People have mentioned it to me, from home, most notably my best mate, Dan, about my demeanour. Things just don't frustrate me like they used to. A push in the street, a cancelled plan, I tend to just shrug them off. The whole dating thing? The ghosting is never nice, or easy to deal with, but the more I've learned to only give my time to people who share the energy I give them - reciprocation - the happier I've been. Not just with dating, but in life. 

I'd never discourage you from reaching out to a mate, but remember, friendships are bilateral. It 'goes both ways,' don't give more time to someone than they deserve, especially if they don't value yours. Dates, family, friends, whoever it is. Care less for those who, quite frankly, care less.

It's hard to distance from people, but sometimes it really is what we need. I never even realised how much time I give to just, well, wasters. Why is my time less valuable than theirs? Honestly, fuck that. Sorry to swear again, my Nanny (grandma) will probably tell me off, but seriously, fuck letting people abuse your time, and believe they have that control over you. They don't.

So yeah, this week - a great one, maybe the weather wasn't perfect, but we kept smiling. Lessons learned, trips to look forward to, blessed with great friends, blessed with good health, safety, a job, etc. Incredibly grateful. every day.

Have the best week, make sure to check in next week - Tuesday or Wednesday - morning UK time.

Yours,

Jamie x