Last updated on 11/05/2024
Wednesday 8th May 2024.
When it comes to writing non-fiction, one of the more prevalent themes found in the literature is that of travel. That and going on holiday. This is something I have done throughout my life. From my very first holiday, in 1966, when I wrote extensive notes about everywhere I went and everything I did.
Most of the major holidays I have taken have ended up as journal articles. There were enough of them to give them a name – I called them my ‘travelogue series.’
I never went on travels – only ever on holidays. Except perhaps once when I set out to roam around Europe, in 1971. Rather unsuccessfully because I only got as far as France, Luxembourg and Belgium. I guess I have not led a very adventurous life.
I occasionally like to read about other people going on their travels. This week, I am reading Laurie Lee’s As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning (1969) which is his account of walking across Spain. A wonderful piece of writing and an enchanting story.
That holiday I went on in 1966 eventually became the basis of my first novel The Road To Ancona (2023). That was followed by my Journal article of 1970 which I ostentatiously called A Journey in Search of Thought.
In 1970, I had only just started to become a serious writer. The idea behind that work was that I would become acquainted with its history and philosophy by travelling around Europe. As an adventure, I did not get very far, either geographically or philosophically but I nevertheless look back on the experience with some nostalgia.
The lengthiest vacation I have ever had was when I went to North America in 1990. It lasted for six weeks; I could only take a holiday of that length because I was between jobs. I ended one substantial period of employment and went to Canada before starting the next one. For most of my adult life, when I could afford to take holidays, I was too busy with my career to take more than a week off at a time.
The reason why I am writing about travel, right now, is that I am due to go on holiday for the first time in twenty-five years. My last trip to Europe was an all-expenses paid trip to Paris, in 1999, which last only one weekend. Next week, I am paying my own way for a short break on the Norfolk coast.
The reason I have been unable to take a holiday, over the past ten years, even though I could have afforded to, was that I kept a pet cat and I had to be there to feed and care for her every day. Sadly the poor little creature passed away last month.
Freed of my domestic commitments, I decided to have three days away in an English guest house. I felt unable to commit to a week-long stay without first seeing if I would actually like the seaside resort I had chosen. If I enjoyed my short break, I would go back there for a long holiday, later in the year.
I did not feel more adventurous than that. But then I am now an old man and very unused to being away from the comforts of my own home. Having said that, I do feel I need to get out more. I felt very able to survive three days in the world outside. I also have a ‘bucket list’ of places I would to visit on day trips (all of them being in the Midlands and very easy to get to on the trains.)