8 Hidden Secrets of Temple, London

Normal Londoners will rush through the Temple area of London, race along Fleet Street and possibly settle into a cosy chair somewhere delicious along The Strand.

Instead of doing the above, the next time you find yourself with a spare half an hour or so fancy a 'London Kiwi'-style tour of the area instead? For medieval history, cats, Hollywood movies, Charles Dickens and a decent cup of tea read on. 

A (Too) Quick City Break in York.

Much like the Grand Old Duke of York, who had ten thousand men and marched them up to the top of the hill, and then marched them down again, I can't get enough of York... (because he visited repeatedly, that was obvious, right?)

Having visited nearly half a dozen times over the years, and somehow not managing to share it on my blog over the years, I would say that although you could visit from London for the day, I wouldn't. Go for a minimum of an overnight stay, or a few days if you can. Witness a misty morning, and a candy coloured sunset, wander out into the Dales or slip in a seaside visit somewhere like Scarborough, and really get to know the ancient city.

When Friends Become Family: Expat Life

It doesn’t matter how long I live in the UK, how often I automatically order mushy peas with fish and chips or how British my accent gets, I’ll always be an expat. It affects how I see the world, decisions I make, the way that my life is lived and the wanderlust that infects my soul.

Deciding to leave behind years of memories, in-jokes and ties so deep that you know what your friends will do before they even do it - is a big decision to make - even if it’s slightly less hard to give up the embarrassing nicknames that you seem to pick up but never really shake off.

Spying Seal Pups at Donna Nook, Lincolnshire

It's a direct result of not being from this country, but I really love it with all of my wanderlusting heart. Sometimes I also hate it - which is part and parcel of a long-term relationship - sometimes misunderstanding of the culture and other times frustrations that you would get living absolutely any where rear their head. That's the joy and challenge of expat life in a nutshell - even for a long-termer like myself.



It's funny though, it means that I view the country with travel spectacles. A case in point? I was watching a documentary a couple of months ago that highlighted a seal colony that migrates to a certain cove once a year to have their babies in safety, away from predators of the ocean. To my husband, Donna Nook is a RAF base. To me, it's a seal slumber party spot.

Gambolling Through Ghent; A Wanderers Guide.

As a day trip from Brussels (only a half hour train),  I've found that either many people haven't heard of Ghent, preferring to explore the chocolate box streets of Bruges, or they adore Ghent so much that when a blogger (me) visits, they spam them via instastories with recollections of days spent there and memories made. True story.

Disclaimer: I was a press guest of VisitFlanders in Ghent, 

but all planning, mischief and thoughts are all mine.

We fell into the former camp on our trip to Brussels and explored Bruges, but genuinely regretted only being able to fit one city in, vowing to return one day.

Getting Lost in Ghent, Belgium

From my hotel window, I can hear the sliding scales of a bluesy jazz saxophonist, children softly singing a nursery rhyme and the occasional tinkle of coffee cups from a nearby cafe.

I should be parading around the town, hunting out all of the medieval gems with the keenness of a panther, but instead, as it's a Saturday morning, I've simply snuggled in further into the covers (more like a house cat in truth). There is a soft breeze floating through the ajar windows, I have a hot cup of tea cradled in my hand and no concrete plans for the morning.

Disclaimer: I was a press guest of VisitFlanders in Ghent, 

but all planning, mischief and thoughts are entirely mine.

This is what I call a blissful city break.

Portugal: A Peaceful Long Weekend In Porto

One of the few regrets I had about my long weekend last year exploring Lisbon, Sintra and Cascais was not being able to fit a trip to Porto into the diary. I mean whilst you're in Portugal, you should be exploring as much as possible, right?

Or is that just being greedy?

Disclaimer: We were press guests of Cheapflights in Oporto, but all planning, mischief 

and thoughts are totally mine (and to be fair, Rebecca's). 

Luckily enough, a few weeks ago I was set a challenge by Cheapflights to book a long weekend away in Porto for two adults for the princely sum of £550. Nope, not each, that's split between us. Keeping things easy, breezy and on the affordable side for a slice of sunshine, all for the cost of a night in a gorgeous luxury hotel, or pair of designer shoes, we spun out a lovely little break from London.

How To Move To The Other Side Of The World: A Retrospective

I honestly can't pinpoint exactly when I actually decided to move 18,764 km away from the only home I'd ever known, all on my own.

I was the ripe old age of 19, and not really enjoying my architecture degree. My grades were pretty good, but I remember being frustrated at only learning from books and idealistically thinking 'how on earth am I supposed to create these amazing spaces if I've never actually experienced them?' 

That time we went out for brunch and accidentally hiked the Rangitoto volcano crater

Nothing seems to surprise my husband anymore. I must come out with ridiculous scenarios so regularly now, he doesn't even lift an eyebrow. Case in point, when I video called him from New Zealand. (He knew I was in NZ by the way, my whereabouts haven't become that surprising. Yet.)

"How was your day?" 'Good thanks, we went out for brunch with Ginni and Alice, and then hiked up a volcano crater.' "That's nice dear. It rained in London today" (sic)

From New Zealand to London: A few thoughts of an expat

Do you ever have those moments when you act like a starlet of yesteryear, and look fleetingly over your shoulder? Metaphorically I mean. (Not literally as the chance of tripping is high - though there is posing for Instagram to think of...)

Having recently visited my family in New Zealand, thoughts of home are close, so when I was tagged by the lovely Wandermust Family in a a short expat expose, I couldn't resist but joining in.

A delicious staycation: The Vicarage in Cheshire

The Vicarage, a hotel in the small Cheshire of village of Holmes Chapel intrigued us.

Identifying itself as 'a restaurant with rooms' we couldn't resist testing out their foodie credentials, so for the last night of our Chester staycation we hopped back into the train and shot out into the countryside.

Expat Life: Giving my London home a touch of New Zealand #travellinkup

How on earth do you define home as an expat? I've said before that London has my heart but New Zealand is my soul (whereas my appetite is totally multicultural) as a throwaway Instagram caption, but actually it's more true than I gave this unconsciously summoned phrase credit for.

I guess this post could be subtitled 'how to make home a home, when you move your home to a new home a really long way away'. Which would be an achingly long subtitle.

So, I decided in a moment of New Zealand caffeine fuelled inspiration to share 5 of the ways that I celebrate my New Zealand roots 12,000 miles away from where they began. Putting the Kiwi into London effectively!

ANZAC Day, Lest We Forget.

Pre-dawn on the 25th April, families gather around the world. Quietly they huddle in their jackets, their antipodean accents muffled by the chilly air.

Slowly in the darkness the crowd begins to thicken, take shape, many around weatherworn memorials thousands of miles away from their birthplaces.

10 Things I’m Grateful For

The fabulous Little Miss Katy has started a happy revolution – firstly it was her “Happy Monday – 10 Good Things posts” that I adore reading to start my week, then the fantastic post “150 Good Things That Happened This Week” and now her championing of the #TodayImGrateful hashtag. Go ahead, read it through, it’ll seriously make your day.

So, as you can see, you can blame her for this post, my own little corner of minor cheerfulness (mostly because I was in the wrong time zone to remember to add something to her epic post).

How to disguise yourself as an English person

Grasshopper, listen up. I've spent nearly a decade on these shores watching, learning, overhearing and studying the habits of enough Brits to pretty well successfully masquerade as an English person. I can now hold a vague conversation about the offside rule in football (usually illustrated with salt and pepper shakers), make a damn good cup of builders tea - so strong you can stand a teaspoon up in it, take my fish and chips with mushy peas and vinegar, and have a cupboard full of pint glasses nicked from the pub that both we and the cat use for water (despite perfectly nice tumblers the next row over - just FYI the beast has her own dedicated glass). Classy, I know.

 Pinkie raising at Claridges dahling

It is getting to a point where I am mistaken for a tourist in my home of New Zealand (I suppose the camera hung around my neck and frequenting Hobbiton doesn't help), have been asked to present my passport in a social event as proof of nationality (in lieu I offered by rugby loyalties which seemed to appease them) and even my family tease me mercilessly about my English accent.

10 things a secret hen/bachelorette party needs

A few months ago now (lord, how time flies) having stalked the lovely Amanda via the medium of blog and gleefully following her wedding plans hatching (it's fascinating when the stresses aren't yours) I became a little suspicious when no mention was made of a hen/bacherlorette party.

Knowing this lovely lady in real life (again through the medium of blog) I correctly assumed it was a case of expat-i-tis, the latin name for a case of gleefully avoiding embarrassing parties thrown in your honour due to lack of locally based family and bridesmaids able to organise a shindig. See why it was shortened?

Once secretly ascertaining that this was indeed the case with her English Knight and groom-to-be Sam, we set to work.

Step 1: Organise a date

Fun ideas in hand, we secretly co-ordinated diaries with Sam (the flurry of messages was quite a tome indeed, including a made up operation name which finally allowed me to utter the glorious phrase "the Albequerque Squirrel is in the Telephone Box" despite a distinct lack of squirrels in New Mexico - contrary to the 5 seconds of mammalian research I carried out.) Ah, the joys of London life.

A love letter to London

Dear London,

I feel like I've said this a hundred different times and in a hundred different ways. But, after all this time I adore you. Even when you drive me utterly crazy.

After exclaiming at my British accent (for some reason I seem to be at pains to tell people I am of antipodean origin) people always ask me how I ended up living on the other side of the world. It's a strange combination of a gypsy soul, an obsession for old buildings and the unusual feeling of homecoming on Heathrow tarmac despite never setting foot on English soil before. But the reason for staying is you (plus a bloke and green-eyed cat which are both definitely your fault.)

Friendship and being an expat

I've been thinking on this post for a long time. Lingering in my draft posts, it's a topic that adults don't often seem to discuss, but, as an expat with home always in our thoughts, the subject of friends and family always raises its head.

Specifically, having moved to a new hemisphere as an adult, sometimes the process of making new friends has felt like it's as tumultuous as dating. There’s an inherent chemistry in any relationship that somehow connects you to one person more than another. Sometimes it's there, sometimes it isn't even when you want it to be.

One of the most elusive aspects of life as an expat has had been making a decent network of those 'call at 2am because I've broken something/am really drunk and just want to chat/ripped a button off my dress/call at 7am because there is a tube strike on and I need advice/indulge in my brunch addiction' friends. 

Hampshire, gin, rugby & a gaggle of blog addicts

Some trips are planned months in advance. Some trips are agonized over in excruciating details. Some trips taken entirely, blissfully out of your hands and you're asked to simply pick a date and book a few train tickets. Out autumnal visit to Hampshire last year is one such delight.

Co-coordinated by a lovely Kiwi friend who has escaped the London rat-race for the glorious rolling fields of Southhampton, we met at the achingly early hour of 8am on a Saturday and fuelled by a glug or two of caffeine we trooped into the countryside.

15 more secrets of London that the tourist crowds miss

If you happen to be planning on a London staycation this Easter, or even a London visit, there are a plethora of quirky places to while away an hour or two in between brunches and afternoon teas.

Following a post of 15 London secrets that the tourist crowds miss, I decided it was high time to lasso another selection of my favourite secrets that most tourists might miss. Some of these places are free, some have cats, a few have suits of armour, several have excellent coffee, none of them are sponsored and they will all surprise even the longest serving London addict who hasn't visited in years.

Discover a tropical oasis inside the ugliest building ever
Free to enter, the Barbican Conservatory is allegedly the second biggest in London and is home to exotic fish and over 2,000 species of tropical plants and trees. The residential estate itself was originally built to replace housing destroyed in the Second World War and also houses a labyrinthine layout of “art, music, theatre, dance, film and creative learning events”.