Musings on a Change of Air
Navigating life’s challenges with a change of scene
For a variety of reasons in the past few weeks, I've felt the need to get away; to escape my usual surroundings. Not so much to go on a holiday, being lucky enough to have a summer topped and tailed with trips to Greece this year, but to get out of my head. To be somewhere different. To feel different.
It seems I’ve been craving a change of air. And, reporting back, it seems a change of air has helped.
It might all sound a bit Edwardian, Victorian even, but the phrase actually planted itself in my brain recently via a meme, rather than being plucked from an Austen read. Exploring various definitions, it appears the term merely refers to anywhere other than where we usually are, though is typically associated with the coast.
The "restorative virtues of the seaside" as described here by Happiful writer Katie Scott, are ones I wholeheartedly champion. Whether it's a hot sunny day lazing on a white sand beach, or a brisk and bracing walk across Brighton's finest pebbles in the depths of autumn, being in the presence of an expansive coastline, the mesmerising spectacle of water meeting sky, I think is one of the most calming and perspective-inducing scenes a person can drink in. When I look out at that vastness, there's not only a natural momentary pause on my problem-dwelling, but even as those problems linger in the background, they seem far less significant than when I'm in my usual environment.
After dealing with a challenging week of late work nights filled with spreadsheets and inner turmoil over some personal issues, a brief visit to a seaside town last weekend was a welcome interval. Although the sky was grey, and the water offered no invitation to swim, the fresh salty air was a reminder to breathe deep; to pause; to think more rationally. I seemed to find, if not a less emotional, then a stronger, perhaps more optimistic, sense of introspection.
The fleeting stop off was part of a longer stay at home, in Wales, surrounded by familiar comforts and the welcoming L-shape sofa on which to sprawl as I pitied my woes. Although I'd already planned the visit, it couldn't have come at a better time. I was only too happy to be waited on hand and foot by mother dearest, something my independent nature can sometimes rub up against. Apart from the seaside jaunt, and Sunday lunch at a local pub (it'd be rude not to), I spent most of my time actually at home, inside the house, so it wasn't so much a change of air (beyond a quick inhale out the back garden between rain showers and work calls) but a change of environment that perhaps really helped. The change of routine. Indulging in the 5* service provided by la maîtresse de maison, Mam, while I let myself focus on completing power points and other such documents you can't help but wonder if anyone will actually read, and journalling to work through my thoughts, or reading to get away from them. When I wanted to feel busy, an hour spent uploading clothes to Vinted while listening to a podcast felt productively therapeutic.
On a similar but slightly less bleak note, a few weeks back I had a weekend away for a wedding. Getting on a train for three hours - which flew by as I worked through those perilous spreadsheets - to reach somewhere new, somewhere unknown to me, brought the welcome effects of a change of air I hadn't even realised I already needed at that point. Arriving Friday lunchtime and departing Sunday afternoon, with wedding events to attend through Friday evening and Saturday, time seemed to pause as I entered a realm with a new rhythm. There were no usual meal times, nor related dishes to clean. At one point I realised I'd showered about three times in 18 hours, my environmentalism evaporating, such was the lure of the en-suite, connected to a room which overlooked the river; two armchairs set by the large window, demanding to be cosily read in.
There were other people's timings to think about, hair styling to be done, and heels to get comfy walking in. There was a city to explore, bars to be discovered, and a gigantic bed in which to enjoy a much-needed Sunday lie in (albeit until an unexpected fire alarm jolted loungers out of our dalliance - luckily the emergency appeared to be of the burnt toast variety). A relaxed brunch at the hotel restaurant was ideal preparation for a day of wandering, stumbling upon a Sunday market packed with little stalls full of things you absolutely do not need yet bring so much joy. Later, the more commercial side of my consumerism nabbed some surprising bargains from a sale rale at The White Company, which have been stored away ready for the delights of snug autumn evenings at home.
Upon leaving the city (Newcastle, since you asked) I felt oddly rejuvenated. I spent the three hour return journey writing, rather than exhaustedly flicking through the pages of a magazine or mindlessly scrolling through articles I don’t have the capacity to take in. It had been busy, an activity packed weekend, but I felt I'd moved at a different pace; slower, owing to out of the ordinary time structures. Also owing, I guess, to that broader meaning of a change of air; to be somewhere that I am usually not.
A key element of both weekends was having spent time with people I love, and whose friendship I treasure. The company of those who can act as a tonic for your troubles should not be underestimated. Since a few personal issues have thrown themselves into the mix along with work challenges recently, I've known I’ve needed the support and guidance of loved ones - and I've been open enough to ask for this. I, who am the fixer, the helper, the ever concerned and caring friend just a call, text or Zoom link away, realised I needed to ward off my tentativeness, my penchant for thinking I can manage everything, all by myself, and ask for help. Which, of course, has been duly provided. This in itself almost feels like a change of air. That is, a position in which I am usually not - but perhaps should spend more time being in.
So, beyond the usual summer holiday rhetoric - though I hope you are fully enjoying those if they're part of your plans this year - what could a change of air do for you? What might be niggling away at you, asking for a change of air? Where could you go? If not for a week, then a day, or an hour? And failing that, who could you ask to be a breath of fresh air for you, whether or not you want to admit you might need it?
PS…
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