There has to be a lake, of course,

Private, with just the sparkle of the sun

To ruffle its edges as I sit with a coffee

Deflating with a perfect sigh.

I could have a typewriter, looking out,

To write poetry on the porch.

Crochet blankets piled in a basket

And an open fire for swiftly cooling nights.

This place exists somewhere out there,

A place to run to, to curl inside,

A picture perfect place, as safe as a mother’s womb.

I would love to have a little retreat that I could escape to. A little bit like the one in Love, Actually where Colin Firth’s character leaves London to go to his hideaway and he meets the love of his life.

He is out in the middle of nowhere in a run down wooden house, and there is a lake and he can just sit outside and write on his typewriter. I don’t need to fall in love, but I really would like the typewriter and the lake.

Unfortunately, for most of us, there are financial circumstances that mean this is a luxury that we can only dream of. But there is a lot of power in the imagination, and sometimes just closing your eyes and imagining you are there is enough to bring the heart rate down and stop the mind racing.

As I go back to work next week, and those stress levels go back through the roof, I’ll try to keep that image of my little cottage on the side of Lake Windermere firmly in my mind. And where would your getaway be?

Much Love

Rachel xx