Tourist to Tourism Marketing Officer - Part four

26th June 2019

Categories: Latest News

Read this installament of the 'Tourist to Tourist Marketing Officer' blog documenting my first year in Weston-super-Mare

Goodbye Doncaster, hello Weston-super-Mare!

When moving day finally arrived I was a whole mix of emotions; incredible excited to begin my new life in Weston with the man I loved and sad to close a chapter on my life, whilst saying goodbye to my family and friends.

Everything was in place: where we’d live - we’d move into D’s flat temporarily (almost a year on, we’re still there, but more than happily), we’d enrolled S into a great school, we hired a van for D to drive up to Doncaster and I’d even got a job sorted!

Amazingly, and what came as a huge relief, my manager at Visit Doncaster had asked if I was prepared to continue working for her from my new home over the internet. This meant I wouldn’t have to rush to find new employment, whilst having the breathing space to establish a new day-to-date routine, become comfortable getting around Weston on my own and to just get familiar with my new way of life. I had naïve ideas of what home-working would be like, which turned not to wholly accurate… But more on that another time.

Once we’d crammed as much of our stuff into the hire van as we could, it was time to say goodbye – the part I was dreading the most. After a farewell meal with my colleagues the night before, I wanted our actual departure to be fairly low-key, just immediate family. My parents, Nan, brother, sister-in-law and baby niece stood in the front garden, each giving me and S a goodbye hug – I purposely left my Mum until last, because I knew I’d not be capable of getting through the other goodbyes if I crumbled with her first; this was a good call. Her eyes were brimming with tears, which immediately set me off, neither of us properly able to speak, but as we came in for a hug she whispered in my ear: ‘This is when you set the world on fire’ – words I’ll remember for as long as I live.

We’d been on the road for fifteen minutes before I eventually regained my composure, desperately trying not to show how upset I was in front of S - not because I advocate supressing emotions (quite the opposite in fact), but because I didn’t want her to be intimidated by all that was happening. Especially considering that up to this point, she’d taken everything completely in her stride. The only wobble she had, was when we arrived into Weston and took a drive past her school to show her where she’d be going. Her face changed as it dawned on her that she was going to be the ‘new girl’ and asked me ‘But what if nobody wants to be my friend?’ We both assured her that everybody would want to be her friend and she had nothing to worry about, thankfully we’ve since been proved right a hundred times over and I’m proud of her every day for how well she’s coped with the move and how she’s settled into life in Weston.

Our first weekend here was a great introduction to Weston living; D’s nephew was celebrating his 21^st birthday with a festival-themed party which was huge fun, despite the weather being stereotypically August bank holiday-like: wet… The party’s toasted sandwich catering truck was a great treat though, and nothing like we’d seen back home - who knew molten cheese could taste even better when served up in the rain?!

We’d have a week to get fully acclimatised before school started for S, and with my new flexible working routine it meant we had a few days to get out and about on our own to explore. The weather had turned itself around and we were blessed with some gorgeous late summer days, perfect for the beach, which was (and still is) the be-all and end-all to S. Her last days of freedom were spent in Ashcombe and Clarence Park, up to her middle in Marine Lake and desperately trying to help me make sense of all the boxes in her bedroom – chaos springs to mind.

One weekend we took another trip into Bristol. Mainly because D couldn’t believe I’d never been to Cabot Circus before. With no persuading necessary, I seized this perfect opportunity for some retail therapy and to get any last minute bits and pieces that S needed for school. A small fortune in Primark, Tiger and ‘TGIs’ later, we’d had another lovely afternoon of memories to show for the expense. S also taking every opportunity possible to pose for photos in new and interesting ways – the shy and retiring type that she is…(!)

The day before she was due to start school, we’d been invited in for a look around and S felt those nerves looming again, I’ve never known her so quiet. She was shown her classroom and got to say hello to her all her new potential friends as well as the Deputy Head. All this ‘scary’ stuff was followed by a celebratory trip to Costa and a run through the Italian Gardens fountain for being so brave. I remember thinking it felt like the last day before ‘Real Life’ would begin and how lovely to spend it together, in Weston – both us new girls, both with tummies full of butterflies.

Once ‘Real Life’ began, the days flew by and turned into weeks before eyes; time seemed to fly by like nothing I’d known. Our routine of the school run, then me heading home to work for five hours, then returning to collect her at 3 o’clock, worked perfectly. Walking to school along the beach before heading home on an open top bus every afternoon - such a novelty for us both. One of the first places that Seren had spotted about town, that was top of her to-do list was Kaspa's. First of all it's bright pink, second of all it's near the buses (captive audience) and third and most importantly of all - it's a dessert restaurant... A bit of a no-brainer, really. I treated her to a visit after school on Thursday and so a tradition was born, S and I try have a Mummy-Daughter date after school most Thursdays and this will still be high on her list of favourites a year on. I mean, just look at her face!

The late summer turned to early autumn and we were treated to some beautiful weather and in-turn, some incredible sunsets. Many an evening was spent wandering down to the beach after tea and letting S run off some steam before bed, making the most of the ‘sea air will tire her out’ idea (which unfortunately, she seems immune to now…!) I wondered when the novelty of this would wear off for S, but even now, she’d still rather be on the beach than anywhere else. A passion she’d not have been able to indulge in Doncaster.

Before we talked about me making the move, D and I had conversations about the future and where we hoped our relationship would go. D was adamant that he felt unable to leave Weston, not only because of his children or family, but because he couldn’t imagine living in-land. At the time, to be perfectly honest, I didn’t give this argument enough weight. I just didn’t understand how it could be so important, was I really jealous of the sea?! But now, after having been here for almost a year, I totally get it, 100%. I couldn’t imagine living in-land anymore, even if this does mean the ‘one road in, one road out’ scenario is a pain that I’ve never had to deal with before. To sit at my end of the sofa watching TV and having a view of the water from the lounge window, is a treat I can’t imagine doing without now.

Around a month after moving day, I had to travel back up to Yorkshire for a gig I was attending with my brother. We’d been counting down the days since I managed to get us the tickets for Arctic Monkeys in Sheffield for months. As giddy as I was and however incredible the gig was, it was odd to spend a night away from D for the first time. What caught me by surprise though, was as I arrived back into Weston, how greatly I was struck by how it felt like I’d arrived home. Like, my proper home, like this is actually where I lived now. Lovely.

We began a tradition of having a day out every other Sunday, when S was in Weston with us and not in Yorkshire with her Dad. Our first examples of this being a trip along Clevedon Pier and somewhere else out I’d wanted to visit for ages.

‘Way back when’ - when D and I were still just online friends (even though I fancied him rotten), I’d seen stunning photos taken by D, of Stourhead, the National Trust attraction. As somebody that likes taking a photo or two, I soon became fixated on visiting the place. With such stunning foliage and the landscapes of the gardens being as lovely they are, autumn would always be the ideal time for a trip out, so around our birthdays (D and I have birthdays ten days apart), we both took our daughters for an afternoon of fun, photography and fresh air. It delivered everything I’d hoped it would and it was a special moment to look back at when this place had only existed in photographs to me, courtesy of a ‘bloke’ on the internet I was falling for, and now look? I was in that place, with that bloke, taking my own photographs!