ON TRAVEL

8 things to do in Copenhagen with a toddler

07/07/2019 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

The thing about going on holiday with a toddler, is that no matter where you go or what you do, it’ll still be hard work. Holidays are no longer about rest, they’re about change. They’re about doing your usual billion parenting tasks somewhere else. They’re about picking up your family, going somewhere new, and making lovely memories together – and ideally paying somebody else to cook at least one of your meals each day, and not having to think about the washing up.

We went to Copenhagen from 1 – 6 July 2019 and had an ace time. We were keen to go somewhere that wasn’t swelteringly hot at this time of year, as that can be tricky to manage with a small person in tow. And we also wanted there to be lots of fun stuff to do, so this got a double tick.

I found blogs written by other parents who have been to Denmark with children really helpful, so I thought I’d share what we enjoyed too, in case you fancy taking a trip. I recommend it.

Amager Beach Park

Yes, there’s a beach. I was surprised too! We stayed in Amager, which though not in central Copenhagen, is still very handy for getting to and from the airport and around the city. And a particularly cool element of the area is that it has a beach.

We went on our first day, which was a bit on the windy side, and we were all a bit tired and hungry, but that says nothing about the beach and everything about our ability to plan.

We still had a nice wander around and a look out to sea, and I’m sure that on a calmer day and with full stomachs it would make for a really great trip out. My toddler had a good time jumping about in the sand, because that’s fun whatever the weather.

The LEGO store, Copenhagen

We did the next four activities in one day, starting with a visit to Copenhagen’s LEGO store, because, well, when in Rome.

I’d seen a visit to the store recommended on another blog and I’m so glad we went because our daughter loved it. Of course she did – it’s brightly coloured, there are giant (to her, anyway) LEGO figures to point at, and she could touch and play and run around, which is pretty much all she wants from life.

I thought it was brilliant too. Long time readers will know that I’m not exactly a Star Wars enthusiast (my first ever Star Wars film viewing was embarrassingly recent), but I still thought the LEGO stormtrooper, R2-D2 and C-3PO (yes I had to google the names of the last two) were pretty cool. And I liked Nyhavn Harbour just as much in miniature as I did in real life.

All in all it made for a very fun 20 minute stop.

Hans Christian Andersen Fairytale House

About a five minute walk from the LEGO store is this slightly creepy, but actually very sweet and fun little fairytale house. Again, it felt only right to engage with something so very Danish whilst in Denmark, so in we went.

Right next to Ripley’s Believe It or Not!, this is a small interactive museum that takes you through the life and stories of Hans Christian Andersen. We went with a speedy 19 month old, so anything that didn’t light up or play music failed to get her attention. That meant we passed through the first few historical-focused bits pretty quickly as they were too dark to catch her eye.

But when we got to the sections devoted to each story, she was much more engaged. There were buttons to press and figures that moved (the ballerina she’s pointing at above was a favourite) and she seemed to find it all very entertaining.

The adults were all childishly amused by the proud-looking naked emperor in the Emperor’s New Clothes exhibit whose reflection somehow magically became clothed in the mirror, so that was 180 DKK well spent (it’s 60 DKK each to get in).

They warn you on the door that it doesn’t take long to get around the house, as it’s only a small place, but we still thought it was worth it. You don’t do anything for very long with a small person anyway, do you, so another 20 minutes or so of fun was enough for us before lunch.

Torvehallerne Food Market

I absolutely bloody love a food market on holiday. Can’t get enough of them. We walked over here post LEGO/fairytale excitement and after feeling a bit overwhelmed by the amazing choice of food on offer, we settled on a couple of salmon and broccoli quiches and ate them outside.

It definitely would have been better for us if we’d been able to find a highchair, as our daughter became understandably keen to escape our laps and tear around, but it was still fun to be there and to eat tasty food in the sunshine.

I have this thing for purchasing nectarines whilst on holiday – are they juicier abroad, somehow? – so I bagged us six from the market before we left and then shared one a day with our toddler in the afternoon whilst we recovered from a day out with an episode of Peppa Pig. It became a lovely, if sticky, little ritual.

Tivoli Gardens

After lunch at the market and with a sleeping toddler in the pram, we headed into Tivoli. Not your average theme park, Tivoli doesn’t just have rides and roller coasters, it’s also home to beautiful gardens, which are ideal for a sit or a toddle around.

My husband took the opportunity to go on ‘The Demon’ roller coaster with our friend whilst our daughter slept and I pretended to be sorry not to go on it too (the constant highs and lows of parenting are enough of an adrenaline rush for me nowadays).

When our toddler woke up, it was great to take her for a walk around Tivoli so she could take it all in. There are rides that are suitable for little ones, but we didn’t feel confident she was ready for that kind of thing, so we just stuck to strolling for now, which was lovely. It was an ideal way to spend a couple of hours in the afternoon before we headed home for tea.

National Aquarium Denmark, Den Blå Planet

Aquariums are ace for small children and I thought this one was particularly great. It’s the biggest in Northern Europe and set in a beautifully designed, modern building overlooking the sea.

There’s so much to see, from hammerhead sharks, stingrays and turtles, to tropical fish, piranhas and – my personal favourite – sea otters. I love the tanks that come low enough for toddlers to see everything without having to be picked up by an adult, so they can be free to point and wave and move around as much as they like.

The tunnel through ‘The Ocean’ is a particular highlight for everybody, and our daughter also loved playing in the toy submarine and sitting in a giant neon (fake) sea anemone – because who wouldn’t?

As a Brit who’s used to pretty crappy food options at large-scale child-focused attractions, I assumed there would be nothing worth eating on offer at the aquarium, but I was wrong. The restaurant is great – we sat outside overlooking the sea and ate fishcakes and chips. All round, an excellent day out.

Louisiana Museum of Modern Art

This is the coolest art gallery I’ve ever been to. Not many come with their own sculpture park and a sea view, but now that I’ve been here, I wish they all did. If you have time for a day outside of the city, this is definitely worth a trip. (Take a train to Humlebæk. It took us about an hour.)

From a toddler perspective, the grounds are definitely the best bit. There’s lots of space to run around, huge trees, and interesting sculptures to look at and hide behind. I only wish it hadn’t rained when we were there so we could have spent more time outside.

There’s a great café which, again, sells nice food for everyone, including delicious coconut macarons I can’t stop thinking about.

Taking a toddler around the gallery is fun too as there’s lots to see and long corridors to wander through, but I must admit it was easier when she went into her pram for a nap and we could have a proper look around without worrying she’d somehow accidentally get us thrown out.

So I recommend going when nap time is on the horizon so you can have a nice dose of grown up culture time too. There’s an exhibition by Pipilotti Rist on at the moment and we absolutely loved it.

Copenhagen Zoo

We had such a fun time at the zoo. We’d never taken our daughter to a big zoo before, so it was very special for all of us. And not only does this one have every creature you’d normally hope to see, it also has polar bears. I honestly don’t know which of us was more excited. There’s a great enclosure where they swim right in front of you and over your heads and it’s amazing.

Other highlights included the wonderful elephant house (until one of them trumpeted so loud that it scared the living daylights out of all of us and proved that the noise I’ve led my daughter to believe they make is way too cute), the lions, the chimpanzees and the Savanna, which is home to giraffes, zebras and rhinos.

And once again the food was lovely. Honestly, UK attractions really need to up their game. We ate at FOLK and shared fishcakes and meatballs. Seeing as we obviously couldn’t go out in the evenings and engage in the more grown up culinary delights Copenhagen had to offer, it was a genuine joy to find such nice food to eat during days out.

So in summary, Copenhagen is great. We did a lot, so we were exhausted by the time we got back to London, but it was worth it.

If you go, I hope you have a wonderful time too. And if you have any comments or questions, please feel free to get in touch!

What to do and where to eat in Menton, France

21/06/2017 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

What to do and where to eat in Menton Menton isn’t the first place that comes to mind when you think of the south of France. But, nonetheless, it’s a very beautiful place and well worth visiting.

We stumbled upon it because we were looking for somewhere to go for a holiday during my second trimester of pregnancy. I didn’t want to go anywhere too hot, and I wanted to be able to do a spot of sightseeing without walking for miles. And I wanted to go somewhere pretty too, so Menton it was. (We have this Telegraph list of the best beach holidays in France to thank for our find).

We stayed at the Princess et Richmond Hotel on the Promenade du Soleil, because who wouldn’t want to be 1 MINUTE from the beach? During our stay, I spent a lot of time googling what to do and where to eat, so the least I could do is write up my own recommendations now we’re back. I hope you find them useful!

What to do

1. Visit Jardin Exotique Val Rahmeh

I was totally blown away by this incredibly beautiful garden. We were staying on the west side of Menton so to avoid walking 40 minutes there in the heat, we took a taxi, which I really recommend as there’s lots of walking to be done when you get there. I understand you can have formal guided tours, but we just took ourselves around the numbered trail and really enjoyed it. Aside from being a garden lover’s idea of heaven, it’s also an Instragrammer’s paradise so take your camera.

Need to know: The garden opens from 10.30am, shuts at 12.30pm for lunch, and then re-opens at 3.30pm – so don’t get caught out. Entry cost €13 in total for the two of us. Also – they don’t sell water so go prepared.

What to do and where to eat in Menton

2. Walk up to the Basilique Saint Michel

If you were feeling more energetic than I was you could spend a lot of your time in the south of France seeing the sights from on high. But even I had the strength to get up here – the steps up to the church aren’t bad at all and it’s well worth the stroll (and there’s a railing too for the wobbly among us). Not only is the church beautiful, inside and out, but the views up there are lovely too. I can’t get enough of brightly coloured buildings and cute alleyways, so I was snapping away like my life depended on it. When you’re done, rather than going back on yourself and down the steps, walk past the church and down the little residential streets back into town. You’ll see so many bright buildings with excellent shutter/window boxes co-ordination that you’ll want to go home and paint your house.

What to do and where to eat in Menton

3. Hit the beach

An obvious one but it really is one of the best things to do in Menton. The sea is glorious and, because it’s not the world’s most well-known holiday destination, there’s room for everyone. It’s a pebble beach so I recommend wearing flip flops down to the water as, unless your feet are a lot stronger than mine, you’ll need them for the stroll back to your towel. We couldn’t find anywhere to hire umbrellas so we bought one in town for about €15 instead. Not to sound too much like your mum but the sun is strong here so a little shade will definitely come in handy. See also: water, suntan lotion and a hat.

4. Visit Serre de la Madone

Yep, it’s another garden. It’s what Menton’s known for because they’re just so damn good at them. I thought it would be tricky to follow Val Rahmeh but this place is just as lovely. Exploring the garden involves climbing through the various levels and taking in the huge variety of flowers and plants until you get to the lovely villa towards the top. There are maps available to help you round, but you can also just follow your nose.

Need to know: Transport of some kind to this jardin is a must. Not only is it a steep journey, there’s also very limited pavement on the way up. The extremely helpful lady working there was kind enough to try to find us a taxi, or otherwise there’s a bus from just outside. (Check departure times as they’re not very frequent). There’s no lunchtime closing here, so you can go any time between 10am and 6pm. Tickets cost €16 in total for the two of us, plus €1 for the map. They also sell drinks and offer water!

What to do and where to eat in Menton

Where to eat

We had many-a lovely meal during our week in Menton – here are the top six I’d recommend.

1. Cote Sud, 15 Quai Bonaparte

Good, reasonably priced food right by the marina, and served by friendly staff. We had the wild boar padella followed by the chocolate brownie and tiramisu and left extremely full but content.

2. Le P’tit Resto, 19 Avenue de la Madone

Homemade, extremely tasty food in a little traditional french restaurant. This place was just behind our hotel so very convenient after a tiring day, but it’s also worth visiting if you’re staying more centrally. I enjoyed the boeuf bourguignon and frites, whilst my husband had a steak with gorgonzola sauce (yep, he’s enjoying all the foods I specifically cannot have whilst pregnant).

3. The Love Hut, 649 Promenade de la Soleil

Tasty and interesting vegan food overlooking the sea. We treated the starters as tapas and had the sushi, dumplings, endives with hummus, and fries. Leon then had the fried tofu with rice too (because he has more room than I do), and then we shared a banana split (because everybody knows dessert goes in a separate stomach anyway). It’s a very chilled out place and the fruit juices are delicious.

4. Le Bistrot des Jardins, 14 Avenue Boyers

Our best meal by far. The setting is so cute – and unsurprisingly in a little garden. The staff were incredibly helpful and patient with my slowly-returning memory of A-level French. We both had the asparagus, then I had the St Pierre fillet, whilst Leon had yet another steak. Pudding was fresh pineapple in spices for me, and tiramisu for Leon (he’s a man of habit, and why not). I can’t recommend this place enough, so do go.

5. Le Bruit Qui Court, 31 Quai Bonaparte

I don’t know if we just got lucky or if the people of Menton are all just very nice, but the staff here were great. It’s another lovely place by the marina, serving good French food. Warning: the ravioli bake starter is HUGE but right tasty. The fish mains are simple but very nice and healthy. The highlight for me was the fromage frais with a fruit coulis I had for pudding – I have never enjoyed what is essentially yogurt so much in my life.

6. Les Enfants Terribles, 1 Quai Bonaparte

Living in London has taught me to be dubious about centrally positioned, large restaurants. We Brits assume that means they’ll be overpriced and mediocre. But that’s not the case in Menton, or certainly not here. The sole was the best I’ve ever had, and Leon’s steak also went down a treat. They serve MEGA ice cream sundae puddings, which you just have to try. But take my advice: when your partner suggests that you have one each, gently insist that you share. If you finished your dinner like a good girl/boy, you won’t have room for a whole one, trust me.

Have a lovely time in Menton, my friend. And say hello to the sea for me. What to do and where to eat in Menton

Five holiday habits to bring home with you

18/06/2017 by Charlotte 2 Comments

Holiday habits to bring home with you We’ve just spent a glorious week’s holiday in Menton in the south of France. I’d never heard of it before we booked our flights a few weeks ago and now I have it to thank for a much needed seven days of rest, swimming in the sea, and more photograph-taking opportunities than any Instagrammer could hope for. (I’ve written a little guide to my favourite places and restaurants to visit in Menton for any future visitors).

But when we returned to normality yesterday, I felt myself automatically slip back into behaviours that simply don’t exist on holiday. My priority stopped being what felt good and relaxing, and I started darting from one thing to another, and ended up falling asleep early doors with a headache.

So, today I woke up determined to try to live life a little more like I do on holiday by adopting five more en-vacances-like habits. I hope you’ll find them useful too.

1. Drinking enough water

Following a horrific dose of sunstroke a couple of years ago (which resulted in a journey of self-discovery in a beach chemical toilet), I now know to respect the human body’s need for water. And nowhere am I more conscious of this than on holiday. This trip I got into the habit of waking up and drinking a 50cl dose of the good stuff, and then keeping it coming throughout the day until my bladder could take no more. If sunstroke taught me anything it’s that there are worse things than needing the loo all the time.

I’m pregnant so hydration is a constant agenda item for me at the moment, but it’s also just good sense. I prioritised it particularly on holiday because I was keen not to feel rough whilst away, but what about the rest of the year? Feeling good at home is just as important, so let’s keep that H2O a-flowing.

2. Using your phone in a more considered way

Despite having written my own set of rules for a healthier relationship with your phone, I’ve still been spending too much time with mine. But on holiday I’m much stricter. Every moment we’re away feels precious and cannot be wasted scrolling mindlessly through timelines. I didn’t have a complete cut off – I’d use it in the evening to post a photo or two on Instagram and to respond to messages – but I didn’t spend half as much time on it as I do usually. And I was so much happier and calmer for it.

But as soon as I got home, I had my phone in hand and was flipping from app to app for no apparent reason; it was just habit. Time is just as valuable here as it is on holiday, so I’m determined to introduce more of my vacation attitude to technology into everyday life.

3. Reading, glorious reading

And very much connected to the aforementioned mobile phone time cut down is the excuse holidays bring to indulge in books. Of course, this treat is in fact available to many of us everyday, but I for one do not make the most of it. I read all the time when we’re away. Every day we went to the beach I’d leave my phone in the hotel and sit reading under our umbrella (until I had to go back inside to use the bathroom again, that is).

Reading is the most wonderfully calming form of escapism, so why don’t I do more of it? Again, I think it comes down to the amount that we value our time on holiday. We’d never sit in our hotel room scrolling through TV channels for no reason – this is time we’ve secured to rest so we must make the most of it. Well, now I want to do that with the rest of my life, too.

4. Having a right good look at everything

Exploring new places is one of the best things about going on holiday. The slow pace lets you take in the sites in your own time, with only the occasional need to remark about how very sweaty you’re feeling to interrupt your activities.

When I’m on holiday, I’m there to look at all of the things. The views, the buildings, the sites, the colours. But I don’t think I give the world anywhere near as much attention the rest of the time. I’m too busy needing to get on the train or to the shop or back home for Coronation Street. And while it’s reasonable to move a little faster in your everyday life, it doesn’t do you any harm to try to do just one thing at a time. To walk down the street, not to do it whilst also looking at your phone. To have dinner with your husband, not to sit there looking over his shoulder at an episode of Friends you can already recite word for word.

I’m person #857849 on the internet to talk about the joy of being present and mindful and whatnot. But there is a reason it’s such a popular subject. Injecting a little of that holiday pace and focus into real life can only make it more enjoyable.

5. Listening to what you need

It’s wonderful to go away or just to take time off at home. For once you have the freedom to not just do what you want but what you need, too. You can lie down when you’re tired. You can have a dip in the sea when you’re hot. And you can get away with eating a pain au chocolat for breakfast every morning because “that’s what the baby wants”.

Time is in your gift when you’re on holiday, which makes all of this easier to bring about. But by taking a break you’re also giving yourself permission to look after yourself. And I don’t see why we can’t apply the same rules at home. We don’t have to go out tonight if we’re not up to it. Nor do we have to answer that email or tackle that nasty mark on the hobs until we’re feeling more energetic. We can go to bed if that’s what we need. Nobody is going to say anything (and you’ll be asleep anyway, so).

You’ll never regret doing what you need to feel well, rested and ready to face the world. Only you really know what that is anyway, so it’s OK to make it happen.

I think we should start bringing more of the kindness we show ourselves on holiday home with us. I started today – I took on one task at a time, I thought twice before picking up my phone, and I ate ice cream because I felt like it. As to how it’ll go when I have a more to do than a pile of washing I don’t know, but the determination to try is a good start.

Holidays may be a once-a-year treat, but the lessons they can teach us about how to get better at relaxing are there for the taking any time.

Holidays and learning to love coming home

17/07/2016 by Charlotte 2 Comments

The worst thing about holidays is that they have to end.

I love being away until that part on your final day when you have to admit that you’re not on holiday any more, you’re just a long way from home.

I find it difficult when my welcome in the country or city I’ve chosen for a break suddenly feels like it’s running out. When you’re no longer a resident of your hotel or apartment, you’re dragging your belongings behind you on wheels, and somebody only has to whisper the word ‘passport’ for you to descend into a blind panic, scrabbling around in your bag for a desperate feel of your documents which are, of course, exactly where they were the last fifty times you checked.

We just got back from Budapest. Leon booked us a city break there for my birthday, which is definitely up there with the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. It was 37 degrees on Tuesday and 32 on Wednesday and every part of me felt like it had melted. I recommend only travelling to countries of this temperature with someone who loves you enough to overlook comments such as ‘Even my shoulders are sweating!’ which are really not in keeping with the romantic getaway vibe.

I love these precious times of the year when we get to go away and pretend that we’re the only two people in the world. When our only concern is where we’re going to go for our next Aperol Spritz or, in Hungary’s case, as many glasses of water as it takes to keep us upright. This isn’t real life by any means, it’s an escape from it, and we all need that from time to time.

When the time came for us to come back, I felt the usual combination of pre-flight angst (Could we accidentally go to the wrong airport? Will there be a big queue at the gate? What if somebody sighs when I ask them to move out of my way on the plane so that I can go to the toilet? Do they not realise that will just make me need to go again really really soon?) and post-holiday blues. Why can’t we stay forever, I wondered, as a woman wheeled a trolley filled with miniature shampoos, conditioners, and shower caps by our hotel room. This place has everything we need.

But rather than really feeling down about our trip being over – which would surely be the ultimate definition of a first world problem anyway – I decided to focus on the good parts of what we were coming back to. If we can’t be here, I thought, I want to be in London.

I said to a friend recently that the relief I feel every time I get back to London tells me for sure that this is where I’m supposed to live. She looked at me with surprise because most people feel the precise opposite way. They will say that the relief they feel when they get the hell out of London tells them that they should live LITERALLY ANYWHERE ELSE LONDON IS INSANE.

We are all entitled to our opinions. But for me this is the place, certainly for now anyway. I don’t mean Leicester Square or Oxford Street you understand, I’m not mad – I mean London in the broader sense. Its billions of opportunities. Its tube system that I like watching documentaries about. The little corner of this city that I call home.

Home is a hard status to achieve. For years after leaving my mum’s house, which was my home for 18 years, I didn’t give anywhere I lived that title. They were just a variety of buildings to which I hauled my complete Beatles CD collection and extensive range of shoes, and in which I slept but did not truly rest.

But with age and relationships and a little bit of cash to make places your own, home comes. I know that my flat is my home now because I fantasise about being in its bath when I’m out at social events. I know I belong in this house because I dedicate specific hours of the weekend to doing nothing but hang out in it. It’s earned the precious title of home because it’s the base to which my husband and I return each day to chat, to eat snacks, and to recover from having to interact with other human beings.

So yes, it is a shame to have to leave a hot, sunny holiday and to return to daily life. But what’s most important is that you like the life you’re returning to. Because if you don’t, there’s nothing like having to get on a plane and fly back into reality to make you realise it. And in that case, it’s time to make a change, my friend. Listen to your post-holiday head, that guy speaks the truth.

But if you do like it, don’t take that for granted. OK, nobody’s going to deliver free tiny bottles of body lotion to your bedroom tomorrow morning, but otherwise you’ve got it pretty good.

2015: This was the year

31/12/2015 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

2015: This was the year

This was the year when I started catching up with friends over breakfast. At, like, 7.30 in the morning. Actually, let’s rephrase that – this was the year I went MAD.

This was the year when I realised that most of the time I only cook meals so that I can eat the condiments that go with them. Don’t pretend you don’t do the same.

This was the year when 24 months after I started growing my over-plucked eyebrows back, one of them started looking almost normal. Pumped to see what 2016 brings!

This was the year when I started having to ask my younger friends if I’m too old to wear hi-top trainers/leather skirts/double denim. It was also the year when they were polite enough to say no.

This was the year when I saw my byline on top of an article I’d written for a magazine and I realised just how much I want that to become a regular occurrence (loads).

This was the year when I was forced to admit that lychees are delicious. Lesson: just because something looks like an eyeball, it doesn’t mean it won’t taste amazing in a martini.

This was the year when I resolved to be less afraid. I’m not sure I was, to be honest, but I certainly did a lot of things regardless of my fears, which is good enough. The most important thing is not to let them win.

This was the year when I went to Lisbon and learnt that it’s always worth telling a hotel that it’s your husband’s birthday (which it was, honest) because they might just have a little chocolate cake waiting for you when you arrive.

This was the year when I read books by amazing female writers and fell completely in love with each and every one of them. If I can just recommend one thing to you, read Bridget Christie’s book, A Book For Her. Read it and then phone me so we can discuss how brilliant that woman is.

This was the year when I couldn’t help also recommending: Amy Poehler – Yes Please, Lena Dunham – Not That Kind of Girl, Mindy Kaling – Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns), Bryony Gordon – The Wrong Knickers, Miranda July – The First Bad Man, and OH MY WORD JUST READ BRIDGET CHRISTIE ALREADY.

This was the year when I got to read published stories written by one of my best friends, Alexa Radcliffe-Hart (like this one, right here). The pride I feel for this woman – and for so many of the brilliant people in my life – reached new heights this year. If you know me, you’ll know I am a crier and that I have therefore spent a lot of 2015 dangerously dehydrated.

This was the year when I went to New York and discovered just how amazing breakfast can taste, how strong cocktails can be, and how many milkshakes one girl can consume in a week (a lot).

This was the year when I built this little website right here. It has its imperfections but they are my imperfections and I stand by each and every one of them (by which I mean that I have googled how to fix them but can’t find an answer).

This was the year that I turned 30. They said it would happen eventually and it did. But I’m OK with it. Because with 30 comes an opportunity to focus on what you really want to do with your life, and a new motivation to just get on and do it.

This was the year when I helped Leon write a Best Man speech and felt so proud watching him deliver it that I could have burst.

This was the year when I got sunstroke and learnt the hard way that you must RESPECT THE SUN.

This was the year when I started feeling really enthusiastic about fabric conditioner. Nothing makes me happier than a good smelling pile of washing and I don’t care who knows it.

This was the year that Leon and I celebrated our second wedding anniversary and I wrote this blog about marriage. When I read it back through, it makes me cry, which is a bit like laughing at your own jokes but much, much worse.

This was the year we went to Australia. I cuddled a koala, I fed lots of kangaroos, and I spent more time by myself than I ever have before. What I learnt was that I like my own company, but that my best memories are definitely made with other people/marsupials.

This was the year when I realised what a compliment it is for an adult to maintain their friendship with you. Remember: we’re in our thirties now, we don’t have to do anything.

This was the year that I realised more than ever that the best gift you can give somebody is your time. I’m very grateful to you all for giving me yours.

Happy New Year, friends.

Photo blog: 18 days in Australia

29/11/2015 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

I have been awake since 2am thanks to the wonders of jet lag so I thought I’d take a risk and see what a blog post looks like when I’m in this state. Please fasten your seat belts, this could be a bumpy ride.

I have just returned to London town after an excellent three weeks in Australia. I have boarded nine planes, I have eaten a lot of ice cream, and I have managed not to have a single altercation with a crocodile, so I consider the trip to have been a success. As mentioned in my last post, my husband was there for work and I was there to be supportive/to have a sweet time in Australia.

And rather than bore you with pages and pages of chat about what I’ve been up to, I thought I’d tell my tale via photographs and limited sentences. That way you get a blog post you can scroll through at speed, and I get to avoid having to think of too many words. It’s win-win all round.

Day 1

I discovered that, in Sydney, some trees are purple. Australia 1 England 0

Day 2

I decided to fight fire with fire. And by fire I mean ‘jet lag’ and by fire I mean ‘margaritas’. At best we can call it a draw.

Day 3

I discovered what it really means to hang out by yourself – you can do whatever you want. So, for example, when you’re heading for the aquarium and you stumble upon the Chinese Garden of Friendship, you can go right in and spend an hour there. And then you can decide you don’t want to go to the aquarium after all, you want to go whale watching. And then you can discover that whale watching season is over and perhaps you’d just like to get a chocolate milkshake and then lunch. It’s a lot of fun. Day 4

When in Rome, do as the Romans do, which in Australia translates to GO TO THE BEACH.

Day 5

You’ve not really seen Sydney until you’ve been on the water, they said. So I did, and then I realised what they meant.

…and then I went to Manly Bay and Shelly Beach because that is what you do here.

Day 6

At Taronga Zoo we found out that giraffes have super strong necks, very long tongues, and an unbelievably good view.

… and that koala bears really know how to work the camera.

I also had my first ever encounter with a kangaroo. Needless to say one of us was much more excited about this than the other.

Day 7

Sometimes on a holiday you have a day when you go to all the right cafes, you drink all of the right drinks, you eat all of the right food, you make hilarious joke after hilarious joke, and you look at each other and think: We are absolutely phenomenal at this. No, seriously, we should do this for a living. Is that a thing? Can going on holiday be a job? WELL IT SHOULD BE.

Day 8

I flew to Melbourne. I met up with a friend I hadn’t seen for three years. I ate a really nice salad. As Mondays go this one was good.

Day 9

We spent the day wandering around the north part of the city. Amongst many other things, I learnt that going to Melbourne and not liking coffee is like coming to England and not enjoying queuing and rain. My apologies, Australia.

…and that a wall is not just a wall in Melbourne, it’s a canvas waiting to happen.

Day 10

In 31 degree heat, the city of Melbourne was hot hot hot. And thank goodness for that – if it hadn’t been, my friend and I wouldn’t have discovered when I said that I wanted an ice lolly (because I’m 30 years old, thank you very much) that in Australia a ‘lolly’ is what we would call a sweet whereas in England a lolly is… well, a lolly. I KNOW RIGHT. Oh no don’t worry, I’ve already called up Lonely Planet to give ’em the scoop.

Day 11

The time had come for me, Melbourne and my dear chum and tour guide to part ways. With a final farewell to the beautiful street art, I headed back to Sydney.

I got off the plane, raced back to my hotel room, showered, changed, and got a cab to Bondi beach to meet Leon. I’m not quite sure whose life I was living that day but it certainly wasn’t mine.

Day 12

For a laugh, Sydney decided to shoot up to 42 degrees on my last full day in the city. In case you’ve never been outside in heat like that before, just pop on your oven, open the door, and imagine what it would be like to live in there. I managed two hours outside before diving into the rather lovely Art Gallery of New South Wales. God bless you, air con.

I don’t like to actively envy other women if I can help it but I must admit that I would have given anything to be this girl that day.

If you’re in the UK and you’re as hot as I was whilst looking at this Christmas tree, you have had FAR too much mulled wine.

Day 13

Next stop: Cairns. We just couldn’t get enough of those high temperatures so got on a plane for a fun five days in the tropics. An hour’s drive around the coast and we arrived in Port Douglas. Starving we hit the supermarket and then the beach for a picnic. You know how they say that a cold beer tastes even better on a hot day? Well, the same applies to The Laughing Cow cheese. Honest.

Day 14

We went to a market and bought a picture from a guy who had a dog named Moo. You?

Day 15

“Oh hey Charlotte, I like your suit. Why are you wearing that? Are you auditioning to be a tadpole in your local school play?”

Nope, I’m about to go snorkelling on The Great Barrier Reef and if any jelly fish want to sting me then they are just going to get a tentacle full of nylon (or I guess they could just go for my face, what if they went for my face?)

On a serious note, this was an extra special day as I was really quite anxious about the snorkelling – just because I so wanted to love it and enjoy the reef but sometimes I find the mask and the sea and the breathing through my mouth a bit claustrophobic but I was absolutely FINE. I loved it. AND I saw an actual shark and it didn’t even eat me or anything. A very strong day all round.

Day 16

Can you see the crocodile? Well, if I learnt anything whilst exploring the Daintree Rainforest and river it’s that he can definitely see you.

This is Cape Tribulation. S’alright.

No YOU swam in a waterfall that you later discovered was home to an almost two metre long (and totally harmless but STILL) eel.

Day 17

I mean, you say he likes living at the wildlife habitat, but don’t you think he would prefer to live in London? I don’t think anybody would have minded – look how happy we were together.

Day 18

The problem with holidays is that they must end. I know, it’s bullsh*t. So we boarded the plane back to Sydney and bid a fond farewell to Port Douglas, its beautiful birds, its nightly flights of thousands of fox bats, and to everything this little bit of paradise did for our souls. Thanks for having us, PD.

I now know that when you have a 24 hour flight ahead of you, all you can think about when you get out of bed that morning is the fact that you will not get into an actual bed for an entire day. Which doesn’t help at all. But like it or not, it was time to go. If nothing else, we’d spent all of our money. So we sat on our suitcases until they closed and made our way to the airport.

Thanks for having us, Australia; we had a blast.

As soon as I figure out how to sleep again, I know that you’ll feature in my dreams.

A few (hopefully useful) specific Australia tips

Sydney

Go to: Taronga Zoo, Art Gallery of New South Wales, the State Library of New South Wales, the Royal Botanic Gardens – all obvious but lovely.

Eat at:

Makoto, Liverpool Street – for the best and most reasonably priced sushi of your life.
Mejico, Pitt Street – for all of the margaritas, the guacamole made in front of your eyes, and the tacos.
Cafe Sydney, Alfred Street – but you didn’t need me to tell you that.
Reuben Hills, Albion Street, Surry Hills – for a brunch worth queuing for.
Mr Wong’s, Bridge Lane – for all of the Chinese food.
Macchiato, Liverpool Street – for a late night pizza.
The Canopy, Liverpool Street – for the porridge and the salads.
Bills, Darlinghurst – hey, I never said this was going to be an original list.

Drink at:

Palmer and Co, Abercrombie Lane – for the Clover Clubs, the music and the novelty of being able to sit down in a bar on a Friday night.
Shady Pines Saloon, Crown Street – for the pride of actually managing to find the place.

Melbourne

Eat at:

South of Johnston, Oxford Street – for the green eggs. Warning: do not make any plans for the rest of the day. You will need to lie down after this.
Addict, Johnston Street – for the healthiest breakfast you’ll ever have and an excellent window for people watching purposes.
Naked for Satan, Brunswick Street – for the views, the food, and particularly the eggplant with blue cheese oh my goodness.
Xeom, Smith Street – for vietnamese street food and a test as to how much chilli you can take.
Arbory Bar and Eatery, Flinders Walk – for lunch by the water in a bar which is attached to a station and yet is in no way horrible.
Miss Chu, Exhibition St – for a tasty, crunchy vietnamese salad

Port Douglas

Go to: The Wildlife Habitat Port Douglas, the Great Barrier Reef (we went on the Calypso boat and had a great time), and for a tour of the Daintree Rainforest (we went with Daintree Discovery Tours and cannot recommend them enough).

Eat at:

Zinc, Macrossan Street – for the barramundi, the kiwi flavoured mojitos, and the bathrooms (I’ll let you find out why).
Mango Jam, Macrossan Street, – for the calamari and the mango daiquiris. Turns out they go surprisingly well together.
Watergate, Macrossan Street – for the duck. Have the duck. It’s just so good. Please, just have it.
The Surf Life Saving Club, Mowbray Street – for a good and thrifty meal, a gin and tonic and service with a smile.
Sassi, Macrossan Street – for the squid ink pasta and the massive prawns. Stewart Lee fans, it’s true, they’re huge.
Salsa Bar and Grill, Wharf Street – for a reminder of what it means to have eyes that are bigger than your stomach.

Drink at:

Sassi (mentioned above) – for great drinks as well as food. Have a margarita or two, you’re on holiday.

5 questions to ask each other before you fly together

23/08/2015 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

This post is also published on The Huffington Post.

One of the best things about being alive is the freedom to go on holiday. But one of the worst things about being alive is people who don’t understand how to behave in an airport or during a flight without making everybody around them want to punch them in the emergency exit.

When you’re in a relationship, finding out whether you can go on holiday and remain happy in each other’s company is one of the biggest tests you’ll face. Alongside discovering whether the other person has the brain capacity to remember when bin day is, it’s the issue most likely to break you.

So before you book anything, may I suggest you ask each other the following questions. Best to check you’re travel compatible before you invest to save having to say “Yes, he/she is a MORON” when the good people at customs ask if you have anything to declare.

1. How much of a sense of humour do you have at 3 o’clock in the morning?

Even the most relaxing of holidays can commence with a crack of dawn flight and a ridiculous o’clock alarm. And with that comes a decision – are you going to see past the early start and look ahead to the sun, sea and only using an alarm clock to wake you up in time to make it down for the hotel breakfast two minutes before it closes? Or are you going to be an enraged, under-slept tool from the moment you wake up until the second you go through passport control on the other side? Because if the answer is the latter, do you really want to use up your annual leave allowance finding out what that looks like?

2. Do you like fighting?

There’s a lot of potential argument material during a flight. You could fight about the weight of your luggage and whether you really do need to bring a litre of After Sun with you; about whether you enjoyed being searched by that rather attractive guard at security; or about which one of you deserves to get the aisle seat – the person with the longest legs, or the person who SACRIFICES EVERYTHING FOR THIS RELATIONSHIP. Or you could commit wholeheartedly to just being pleased to be going away and to have the opportunity to justify spending €10 on a packet of Pringles. Up to you.

3. What does airport time mean to you?

Do you see an airport as a brightly lit shopping box, filled with last minute purchasing opportunities, drinking holes, and snacks-a-plenty, or as a pale walled holding pen in which you will stand firmly beneath the flight information screen until your gate is announced and you leg it there, knocking any man, woman or child who dares to get in your way to the ground with the sharp end of your wheelie suitcase? You need to know what kind of person you have chosen to spend your life with (and if they’re in the second group, you need to confiscate their passport).

4. How fond are you of sighing?

You know that gentle breeze that flows through every airport across the world? That’s not happening because someone left a door open or because an air steward is using an extra high powered hairdryer; it’s because at least 50% of the airport population is always sighing. And maybe you like that – maybe you’re one of them. But either way you need to know – either so that you can run for the hills as fast as you can because ohforgoodnesssake, or so that you can set yourselves regular alarms to remind you to breathe in as well as out. Seriously guys, be careful.

5. How much do looks matter to you?

Even the most beautiful of people with the best genes and moisturiser aren’t safe from the horrendous effect that air travel has on the human complexion. But are you going to let that go and remember that everybody will look better after a shower and some real air? Or are you going to feel the need to point out how incredible it is that somebody who looks so close to death is still managing to function? It’s a good idea to talk this one through in advance, otherwise somebody may end up with an aeroplane plastic fork somewhere they do NOT want to find a plastic fork.

So what’s the verdict? Are you heading straight online to book the trip of a lifetime with your soulmate, or are you dividing up your things into ‘mine’, ‘yours’ and ‘for the bin’ and waiting for your parents to come and get you the hell out of there?

If it’s the latter then I’m very sorry to hear it but I think it’s for the best. If you want to feel better, just ask them what day they’ll need to put that rubbish out for collection. I’ve got a feeling their answer will confirm you’ve had a lucky escape.

That time I pep talked myself into using a chemical toilet

16/08/2015 by Charlotte 3 Comments

There are some places you just don’t want to put your butt.

That’s what I said to my husband when I came out of the loo on a beach in Gozo a few days ago.

Because the thing about marriage is that, whether you want to or not, you have to listen to the other person’s stories. It’s in the vows. I speak, you listen, nod and say ‘No way!’ whenever there’s a silence. A commitment to looking interested whilst your partner shares whatever bullsh*t they wish to divulge is at the heart of every happy relationship.

Now for some context:

We spent the last 10 days on Malta and Gozo. It’s beautiful there, the food is delicious, and I drank a mango daiquiri which was so sweet that I swear I heard my teeth cry. It was a great trip.

But unfortunately, a few days in, I got a hard dose of sunstroke. I took my eye off the hydration ball and tumbled fast into a state of pain and confusion I wish never to return to. It was chuffing horrible.

And as a result, once I’d pulled my mind back together and felt able to start consuming solid foods (I’d like to take a moment to thank Nutella for helping me believe that I would indeed experience joy again), I committed to chucking back water for the rest of the holiday like it was going out of fashion. I couldn’t get enough of the stuff. It was partly paranoia and partly because it was 34 degrees outside and if I didn’t keep my liquids topped up, I was bound to find myself with another one-way ticket to sunstroke town, and that is somewhere you only want to go to once. Think of it like the Times Square of illnesses. Once in a lifetime is plenty.

But the thing about drinking endless amounts of water is it makes you need the toilet. A lot. Now, if you know me, you will not think this is news. I always need the toilet. It’s my thing. Some people have their hair or their looks or their incredible Donald Duck impression as their thing, whereas I have my weak bladder. If I can ever find a way to make money from it, my god I will.

But this was ridiculous. It made my usual toilet frequenting look positively irregular. But I saw the need as a good thing. Because when you have sunstroke you don’t need the toilet at all, because your body is desperately trying to keep hold of every drop of moisture it can to keep you alive. HAVE I CREATED ENOUGH OF A SENSE OF DRAMA YET BECAUSE IT FELT VERY REAL FOR ME AT THE TIME.

Anyway, so that’s how I came to find myself on a beautiful beach in Gozo, ready to burst if I couldn’t get my toilet on and fast.

So I opened the portable loo door, and instantly added yet another instance to my memory bank of times when I wished I was a man and could stand up to go to the toilet. I won’t go into it, but things were a little grim and I did NOT want to sit on that. But one way or another I had to go, my bladder was not messing around.

My mum has always tried to instil three core beliefs in me: 1. Always cook your chicken properly; 2. Never wear shoes in the house; and 3. Always crouch over a public loo. Now, I have nailed 1 and 2 – I take my cooking very seriously and the mere thought of a shoe wearing foot wandering around my house makes me SHUDDER, but when it comes to 3 I have let her down due to a combination of weak thigh muscles and utter laziness. But on this occasion it was either hover or don’t bother (and P.S if I ever get a tattoo, I think that’s what I’ll go for). I had no choice.

So I went for it. And just like every other major milestone I’ve reached, I needed some seriously positive self-talk to help me through: “Ok, we can do this!” “Come on, Reeve*, you’re almost there!” “Mum would be so proud of you right now!” “Gosh, wouldn’t it be awful if this whole thing toppled over!”

*Reeve was my surname before I got married. In situations where I need to motivate or berate myself, this is the name I opt for. The single syllable is particularly effective at such times.

And I did it. I strolled out of there laughing and swinging my hips and high-fiving every fellow holidaymaker I passed. OK, the last part isn’t true – I wasn’t going to touch ANYTHING until I’d doused myself in anti-bacterial hand wash.

I rejoined my husband underneath our beach umbrella and regaled him with my tales from the portable toilet, whilst he smiled and nodded and wondered if it really would have been so bad if he’d just remained single.

The thought of my achievement, my ability to put mind over matter, and the prospect of whatever marvellous triumph I might take on next kept me smiling right up until the moment when I started to need to go to the toilet all over again.

That may have been the proudest three minutes of my life.

You’re on holiday. And it’s OK.

09/08/2015 by Charlotte 3 Comments

It’s OK to wear that dress that’s a bit too short because you’ve spent most of the day practically naked in a bikini anyway and what of it.

It’s OK to promise you’ll get out of the sun after just one more chapter of Amy Poehler’s Yes Please! (and maybe another one after that…)

It’s OK to have Pringles as an afternoon snack even if they’re in no way representative of Malta’s delicious cuisine because you promise you’ll still have room for some of that later.

It’s OK to look at your husband and think that one of the things you love most about your marriage is your pre-holiday airport routine of food, drinks, and panic shopping.

It’s OK to tell people about the sparkly flip flops you bought before your flight for a FIVER like it’s a great anecdote. You know why? Because it IS a great anecdote.

It’s OK to have a few days when you don’t email anyone. In fact, it’s more than OK, it’s DREAMY.

It’s OK that you took so many photographs of the little muffins that were waiting for you when you got to your hotel room because it’s possible that they are the most beautiful thing you will ever see.

It’s OK to sweat in front of your friends. It’s 34 degrees, you have absolutely no choice.

It’s OK to paint your nails by the poolside because that is an excellent use of time, and in this heat those babies will dry in seconds.

It’s OK to look at the family and friends you’re away with and think how incredibly lucky you are to have these people in your life because you are and don’t you dare forget it.

It’s OK that you bought the insect repellent that is slightly scented because it was cheaper. You can use the money you saved you buy bite cream because guess what, turns out the little bastards quite like the taste of it.

It’s OK to start thinking about your next holiday whilst you’re still on this one, because THIS. IS. THE. LIFE.

It’s OK that you’re appalling at volleyball. You have other skills, it’s just a shame that none of them are of any use at the beach.

It’s OK to forget that euros are real and to spend them like they’re Monopoly money.

It’s OK to let a holiday remind you how important it is that you make sure you do what you want with your life. Alongside pina colada consumption, that is exactly what these trips are for.

It’s OK that despite intending to have a few days without any screens you just had to sit down and write this. You just can’t help yourself, can you. But that’s OK.

5 excellent places to have breakfast in the West Village, New York City

02/07/2015 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

They say that the best blog posts are useful.

When we were in New York a couple of months ago, the thing I googled most frequently was ‘breakfast west village new york’ (because none of us bother with capitalisation or punctuation on google, do we.) And the internet was a great help to me so it seems only fair that I return the favour and help any future NYC visitors enjoy the same breakfasty splendour that we had.

There are many great things about NYC but my highlight was definitely breakfast. Partly because, as is tradition, it always came at the very start of the day when we had a whole seven hours or so of exploring ahead, and partly because the food was just so damn good. We were there five days, had five breakfasts and I would recommend every single one. They come to you now in chronological order, informed by the small travel diary I am now very pleased that I kept.

1. French Roast, 78 West 11th Street

The first day of a holiday is just marvellous, isn’t it. So much joy, so much hope, so much time ahead when you don’t have to have discussions about how you’re going to get back to the airport or whether either of you has kept a spare plastic bag aside to carry your worn socks home in. Our first morning took us to French Roast. This place is ideal for your first American brekkie with a choice of all the things you want to see on the menu – eggs, omelettes, fruit, pancakes – as well as the option to sit outside and watch Sixth Avenue fly by. In my jet lagged state I didn’t feel ready to stomach the full NY breakfast experience just yet so opted for the yogurt and fruit with a bonus drop of honey which was delicious, and my husband Leon had eggs Florentine (like he does absolutely everywhere that will sell them to him) and enjoyed it very much. All round a very cool, reasonably priced and friendly little joint. A very strong welcome to NYC.

2. Buvette, 42 Grove Street

If I knew I only had one day left on earth and the choice of just one last breakfast, I would have it here. Positioned on one of the many gorgeous tree-lined streets in this part of town sits Buvette, a petite but perfectly formed café bringing a beautiful touch of Paris to the village. If you go, try and get a seat at the counter where you can watch the magic happen (there are no reservations). I had the Belgian waffles which tasted all the better for having witnessed the mixture being poured onto the griddle and the doughy results plated up in front of me before being drizzled with berries and crème fraiche. They were so soft and so sweet that I had to hold back a tear when they were gone – which they were as soon as I’d stopped taking photographs of them. Leon had fried eggs, prosciutto and chorizo on toast and didn’t say a word until he’d eaten every last bite which is always a good sign. He also says the coffee was the best he’s ever had. So there. Go.

(I understand there is also a Buvette in Paris so will be on the next train out there).

3. Cornelia Street Café, 29 Cornelia Street

On day three – which peaked at 32 degrees – in pursuit of some early morning sustenence, we stumbled upon this Franco-American café just off lovely Bleecker Street and sat at table in the window beneath the bright red awning to try and cool down. This place is wonderfully calm and relaxing and there are seats outside too. The highlight of our visit was our waiter who was able to predict just by listening to my English accent that when I ordered ‘eggs any style’ that I’d want them poached. “It’s a thing, right?” he said with a knowing smile before then doing an excellent impression of a British person saying the word ‘poached’. I guess you had to be there but it was VERY funny. And the food was excellent too. Whoever came up with the idea that breakfast should come with a side of garlic potatoes is a very clever person.

4. Hu Kitchen, 78 5th Avenue

This café is everything I thought New York would be. The food and drink is all supremely healthy – everything is entirely gluten free, unprocessed, clean – you feel like it’s the kind of place you’d love to be able to afford to eat in every day and just sit back and watch your skin glow. We both had a sausage, egg and kale open sandwich which was good and just very wholesome. Unlike almost every single other piece of gluten free bread I’ve eaten (which is a lot, by the way – when I’m not on holiday I keep myself as gluten free as I can in the interests of not being permanently bloated #hotstuff) this was actually really tasty. The fruit smoothies were splendid too. It’s a little on the pricey side compared to some of the other places we went but it very much feels like you’re paying for goodness so it’s definitely worth a try.

5. Café Cluny, 284 W 12th Street

If I knew that I only had two days left on earth and the choice of two last breakfasts, I’d have the first at Buvette and the second at Café Cluny. Our final hurrah in the West Village before getting on the plane back to London was here and WHAT a way to go. Another lovely café on another beautiful street, permanently populated by people walking the best dogs I have ever seen. This is how I shall remember New York. Go here and have the chili avocado on toast (which FYI comes gluten free and delicious as standard. How can we get some of this excellent bread delivered to London?) with a poached egg on top. I can also recommend the pancakes which were MASSIVE but Leon took them on and nobly ate every last piece. I was so proud of him.

I very much hope that this is useful and that it helps somebody someday have a lovely NYC breakfast. Save me a fork-full of waffle, won’t you.