My introduction to travel came at the tender age of 10 when my parents took me from the north of England, 13000 miles across the ocean to Port Pirie in South Australia. Previous to that I’d gone no further than a brief walk to school and the beach.

Sheltered as I was by the presence of my parents on that journey I loved it, my only complaint was that I was made to attend school. I decided this was extreme cruelty as my brother – two years older – was allowed to roam at will and my five-year-old sister was too young to attend. I learnt that Sydney was the capital of Australia and that if I was lucky I’d see kangaroos bounding around the streets of our destination. As both proved to be incorrect, I can only assume I wasn’t paying too much attention to the lessons.

The journey instilled in me a desire to explore the world, but sometimes life gets in the way and it wasn’t until many years later that I returned to the land of my birth on a loosely planned one-month long holiday.

I was so inspired by the countryside – so different to Australia and with so much history to search out that one year later, at the age of 50, I tossed in my job, made my way to England and lived out of a suitcase for six years, working as a live in carer for a few weeks to replenish the bank balance while planning my next destination.

I eventually returned to Australia permanently but the desire to continue my travels never left.

This is a blog of my travels, both recent and long past and I hope you enjoy reading about them as much as I did living them.