revisiting a childhood place is like being struck by a magical thunderbolt, don’t you think?

I know I know this place

If only from the curling photographs

That my parents love to keep

In biscuit tins, under sinks and pots of bleach.

I know this place, somewhere in my heart

There is an inkling that I spent a childhood summer

Running on these riverbanks

And through the forests with young cousins

Racing into grandma’s arms.

I feel that sigh within my soul

That tells me magic happened here

Even though it’s only photos

And faint impressions in my mind

That tether me to this perfect place.

I’ve just come back from a week in the Norfolk Broads and I had such a lovely time. We hired a boat for the week and just travelled around the Broads.

We used to do this almost every year when I was little and it brought back a lot of memories. Some that I thought I was only remembering from the photographs that my parents have kept all these years, and some of them I wasn’t sure that I had straight up dreamed.

But when you do find yourself in a place that does match that memory, it feels like you’ve been struck by something powerful; a magical thunderbolt. And I had plenty of those moments on this holiday.

The photo above was taken in 1986 when I was two and it is of my nan, my aunt and me. It’s such a beautiful memory because nan isn’t with us any more and I know that she used to love those holidays.

I hope that you are having the chance to explore some of your childhood haunts while travel is limited. I can assure you that it won’t disappoint when you are struck by one of those magical thunderbolts.

Much Love

Rachel xx

the paddle steamer

She trailed her hand in tepid water

As the steamer cruised through glass,

Knowing that she’d long remember

Days like this that capture summer

In her sepia tones.

Her creamy dress reminded her

That wedding bells had rung that day

And now the party had moved on

But she just wished to disappear

And so she dived amid the gasps

Of guests so horrified that brides could do

Such unthoughtful acts of disrespect.

But this was not an act of hate, but love,

Her beauty caught as paddles churned away,

Her dress and hair all fanning out

To make her seem so ethereal,

A perfect image for her groom

Before she went away.