My City, My Home, My Comfort

There have been many times, more than I care to remember, when I have spoken about moving away. "Let's move to .... " or "How about living in ... ". It's very easy to become despondent to your home, the very place that bore you and watched you grow from the helpless baby you were to the hopeless adult you've become.

The high street that you’ve wandered countless times before, the same old shops and department stores with a sprinkling of hopeful new ventures that somehow seem to vanish before you’ve had a chance to visit. It’s easy to want something different, something shiny and new, to explore the uncharted (at least by me) lands of beyond.

Nothing can really prepare you for the barrage of emotion you feel when you envision yourself living away from everything you’ve ever known. Leaving behind family, friends, familiar places. Nothing can replace that tiny piece of your soul that is attached to the inanimate objects that you’ve taken for granted. The old buildings, the new high-rises, even the roads that you know oh so well.

This is where I find myself. I have yet to take the great leap of faith that is moving away from home. By home I mean the city I live in. My city. Plymouth, UK. There is something so special about this place that has a hold over me that I can’t free myself from. I don’t want to free myself from. Everything that I know is here, it’s comforting and warm (metaphorically, usually it’s anything but) and familiar.

I always say how lucky where are to live where we do. As an island nation we are surrounded by water, but none more-so than in the South West of England. There is a staggering 630 miles of coastal paths in the South West, paths that can take you away and free you from your reality, for a time. Living in this part of the country, this part of the world, is such an escape. Who needs to move away?

Accompanying the endless miles of coastal walks are the beaches. There are literally hundreds of beaches (436 to be exact) that are waiting to be explored. In the immediate area surrounding my hometown there are 15 accessible and downright beautiful beaches of various sizes and constituents.

My favourite, by far, has to be just a short drive over the border into Cornwall at Tregantle. This beach stretches for about 1.4 miles and is gorgeous. There are shipwrecks, rockpools, caves, and, when the tide is out, a beach that is absolutely breath-taking. It is a bit of a trek down from the top of the cliffs (480 metres of downhill paths accessed across MOD land) but the reward is worth it. The walk back to the top is a killer on the legs, especially after a long day of sunning it up.

A little closer to home and you’ve got the historic Barbican and the Hoe. For those Americans out there that dote on the history of their fine country, Plymouth is the last port that the Pilgrim Fathers departed from aboard The Mayflower to settle down in North America. That was 1620, a little over 400 years ago.

Among other travellers that have sailed from our fair port town we have Sir Francis Drake who, in 1588, sailed a fleet of 55 ships from Plymouth to battle, and ultimately defeat, the Spanish Armada. Drake had also previously set off from Plymouth in 1577 to circum-navigate the globe.

Even NapNapoleon leon Bonaparte has visited this place, albeit aboard HMS Bellerophon and never setting foot on dry land, in 1815. There is just so much history and surprise to be found if you know where to look.

If the seaside and cobbled streets of the Barbican aren’t your cup of tea, then just a quick hop Northwards will bring you to the Moors. Dartmoor is a fascinating place dripping in legend and ancient myths. The landscape is stunning and unforgiving and offers some of the most amazing views you can ask for.

The numerous tors that are strewn across the untouched vista are great for clambering over and gaining a spectacular new vantage point to stare off into the distance and let the (strong) breeze carry away your woes.

Just on the outskirts of Plymouth sits Brentor. This stunning little place is the home to one of the highest working churches in England at 1100 feet above sea level. Dating from the 12th Century, the church of St. Michael de Rupe sits atop the tor and offers spectacular 360 degree views over the immersive skyline and is one of my favourite place to go. I find old churches such beautiful structures and such peaceful places to sit and stew in the million and one thoughts that race through my head on a daily basis. If you ever need to just sit and think, find an old church, you won’t regret it (no matter your religious standing).

So there it is. My town, my city, my home. Plymouth. It will always be a part of me, and I will (probably) always be a part of it. It has been a blessing to live here, especially in the current world- wide situation, to have such variety and choice to help pass the time, to “get away from it all” without ever leaving home. Who needs to move away when you have such diversity of nature around you?