When I half-promised a Tuesday blog post last week, I’d forgotten to factor in that I was going to be off the grid at the time, so that’s why we’re here on a suspiciously un-Tuesday time of the week. I have a decent excuse this time, though – I went on a Writer’s Retreat to Boscastle, with some others on my old uni course!
I had to take the first half of my bus journey alone, which became the cause of much anxiety on the week leading up to my departure. I managed to not get lost or murdered, though, which was fine. Liberating, even. To think that I might have cancelled the trip on this fear alone is, retrospectively, absurd, but too much time in your comfort zone can result in the mundane appearing so.
After journeying through the Cornish wilderness, I arrived at the hostel which I’ve been to twice before, and was immediately at home with the heated floors, the five comfy sofas that face each other, the beds with their overly thick blankets and the absence of phone signal. On my first trip there four years ago, there wasn’t even any WiFi, and I’ve continued to keep up the liberating feeling of being off the grid by simply stowing my phone and other devices away.
This annual fleeing to the countryside is actually organised by my University for my Creative Writing course, and, luckily for me, graduates are invited too. I initially planned on going there simply to meet and catch up with two of my old friends from the year above, but whilst in Boscastle I had the pleasurable experience of meeting and befriending those still on the course, and the thirteen of us spent much of our time just talking to each other. I thought my days of meeting like-minded Creative Writing students through the university were over, but I was treated to one last helping of friendship for which I am very thankful.
Whilst this has been one of my favourite trips to Boscastle, it’s also been one of my least productive. I wrote a grand total of two sentences, one of which I deleted. What I instead spent most of my time doing was a mixture of either chatting, reading (the end of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and the mixed bag that was The Cursed Child), walking and playing Mario Kart 7 with others. And to be honest, I don’t really regret my lack of productivity due to this.
One thing this trip has opened my eyes to is how long it’s been since I’ve met new people. I’m incredibly grateful for those I already have in my life, but as somebody who is not a social person, it’s easy to forget how much one can learn about oneself and grow in self-review from simply meeting someone new. As somebody who doesn’t drink nor live close to their friends or the city centre, it’s easy to fall into a routine where I see the same faces all the time. Coming home from Boscastle has emphasised the negative sides of my current life somewhat intensely. Life is about staying up for 30 hours so you could talk through the night, not remaining comfortably stagnant at home.
Perpetually Perturbed 