September’s monthly journal reflects on bears, grief and carrying old dreams into new adventures, alongside a month filled with quirky stays, saunas, stories and travel.
September has been another incredibly full month. There was a trip to Romania, a quirky stay, a new-to-me sauna, and plenty of opportunities to remind myself that saying yes to adventure, both large and small, continues to be one of the best things I can do for my body and mind. Even if I am exhausted.
Back at home, life carried on in its usual fashion too. I had my annual flu jab, managed three ambling walks with friends including a lovely wander through the countryside surrounding Chedworth Roman Villa, and finally got the lights on the Mini fixed. Again. Hopefully for the last time.
There were a few quieter moments scattered through the month as well. One particularly enjoyable catch-up with the sort of conversation that covers decades in a couple of hours (heal well, Rick). I also discovered Upstairs, a newly opened café in Cheltenham that sits above the cheese shop. A toasted cheese sandwich may not sound particularly remarkable, but trust me when I say this one was excellent. I will definitely be returning.
Work, of course, continued to occupy a significant portion of my time, as work generally insists on doing. But between the meetings, deadlines and day-to-day routines, September offered plenty of reminders that there is value in making room for experiences that are new, interesting and a little different.
From bears and mountain forests to piano beds and barrel saunas, it has been another month of collecting stories. And as it turns out, some of the most meaningful ones began with the simple decision to go somewhere, do something, or say yes to an opportunity that sounded fun.
Bears Were His Favourite
When I tell people I went to Romania to see a bear, and a wild bear at that, it sounds faintly ridiculous. The itinerary for this week away may have included castles, medieval cities, mountain walks and a few days exploring Bucharest, but the entire trip existed because of one simple goal: I wanted to see a wild brown bear.
Last summer, my husband and I should have been road tripping through Romania together. In classic us fashion, we were to ride there from home, collecting memorable detours, strange overnight stops and probably unnecessary mileage along the way. Romania had been on our list for years. The Carpathian mountains appealed to both of us, the history intrigued me, the famous Transfăgărășan Highway appealed to our shared love of road trips, and the country’s brown bear population was more than enough to capture my husband’s imagination.
We had seen bears together before. Back in 2016, during our Zartusacan adventure through North America, we were lucky enough to encounter both black bears and brown bears in the wild. Yet somehow Romania and its bears always called our names. Perhaps because it combined so many of the things we loved: road trips, mountains, wildlife and the promise of adventure waiting around the next bend.
The trip never happened, for reasons that will be familiar to anyone who has followed this journal over the past 18 months. Instead, Romania joined the long list of plans, ideas and conversations that suddenly belonged to a future that no longer existed. Yet the thought of seeing bears in Romania never went away.
A New Way
One of the strangest aspects of grief is discovering which parts of your old life survive intact and which need to evolve. Travel was never something I wanted to give up. Adventure wasn’t something I wanted to leave behind. If anything, losing my husband made me cling more tightly to both.
And I believe with all my being that he would want me to keep exploring.
Over the past year, travel has become one of my principal coping mechanisms. Not because it distracts me from grief, but because it reminds me that life still contains possibility. There are still places to explore, people to meet, challenges to tackle and stories waiting to unfold.
The shape of that travel, however, has changed.
Before, Romania would have been part of a much longer road trip. There would have been a loose plan, plenty of spontaneous decisions, and probably far too many snacks purchased from random petrol stations and roadside cafés. It would have been one stop on a three-week adventure to, around and from this beautiful country. Instead, I joined a small group hiking and bear-watching trip. I followed a set itinerary. I shared the experience with strangers. And I let someone else worry about the logistics.
I’ve done a few of these trips now and, at first, I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that. There can be a temptation in grief to believe that honouring someone means preserving everything exactly as it was, and that if an experience does not look the same as it once would have done, somehow it matters less. What I am learning, though, is that the opposite is true.
Carrying the Memories
My travels today do not look like the travels my husband and I shared. They are quieter in some ways, bolder in others. Involve different companions, different challenges and sometimes entirely different reasons for choosing a destination. They are also creating memories that belong solely to me. For a while, I think part of me worried that making those new memories might somehow diminish the old ones, but that is not how it works.
The road trips across Europe, the ridiculous detours, and the countless journeys that shaped our life together do not disappear because I continue travelling. If anything, they come with me. The old memories remain exactly where they have always been. New memories are simply added alongside them, each becoming part of the story.
And sometimes, as Romania reminded me, a dream can survive a complete change of format.
Twenty Magical Minutes
My wild bear encounter came on my second day in Romania. For nearly two hours, our group sat quietly in a wooden hide tucked away in the forest. We watched. Waited. Tried not to make noise. Occasionally someone would spot movement in the trees and the collective excitement would rise, only to disappear again.
Then she arrived. A wild brown bear emerged from the forest and wandered into the clearing ahead of us.
For twenty minutes she snuffled through the undergrowth, searching for anything edible, entirely unconcerned by the fact that a dozen humans were desperately trying to remain silent while simultaneously wanting to point excitedly at everything she did.
The photographs are dark and blurry, but all that matters is I had the opportunity to watch her with my own eyes. It was one of those rare travel moments where reality refuses to disappoint. Everything I had hoped for was there. The size of her. The confidence of her movements. The simple privilege of watching a wild animal existing exactly as nature intended.
Of course, there was also an absence. I would have given a great deal to have my husband sitting beside me in that hide. Yet for reasons I struggle to explain, he felt extraordinarily close in that moment. Watching that bear felt less like replacing the journey we never took and more like honouring it. The destination was the same. The circumstances were different. And the meaning remained.
Carrying Things Forward
The following morning we visited the Libearty Bear Sanctuary, home to rescued bears that had once endured lives of captivity and exploitation. Many of their stories were heartbreaking. But the overwhelming feeling I took away was one of hope. Here was a place dedicated to repairing harm. A place built around the idea that difficult stories can still have better endings. Perhaps that is one reason the sanctuary resonated with me.
Grief has taught me that there is no repairing loss. Some things cannot be fixed. People cannot come back. But there can be life around the hurt.
Romania was never part of my original plan for this year. In many ways, none of this year was. Yet standing in the Carpathians, walking through mountain forests, exploring medieval towns and later wandering the streets of Bucharest, I was reminded that carrying someone forward is not the same as standing still.
The life I have now is not the life I expected to have. The journeys I take are not the journeys we planned together. Yet they are still full of meaning, wonder and connection. The old memories remain. New ones continue to be made. There is room for both.
Carrying someone with you takes many forms. It might be heading to a destination that should have been shared, choosing adventure when staying home would feel easier, or discovering a completely different way to travel while holding on to exactly the same reasons for wanting to go.
In Romania, it meant sitting quietly in a forest, watching a brown bear snuffle through the twilight, and thinking: You would have loved this.
Sleeping In (On?!) a Piano
One of the things I have talked about a lot over the years, is that adventure does not have to be grand in scale to be meaningful. Romania may have been a significant adventure, but not every trip needs mountain ranges, bears and international flights. That, in many ways, is what my quirky stay project has become.
When I booked my first quirky stay back in the summer of 2025, I thought it would be a fun seasonal experiment. A little challenge to seek out unusual places to stay within easy reach of home. Twelve quirky stays later, it is clear that the idea has grown into something much more significant. Whenever I feel the need for a change of scenery, a break from routine, or simply a reminder that life can still surprise me, I find myself browsing Canopy & Stars and wondering what unusual accommodation I might discover next.
My latest stay, right at the start of September, took me to rural Wales and a comfortable music-themed cottage called Ty Nodyn on an organic farm in Ceredigion. The cottage itself was lovely, with a fully equipped kitchen, wood-burning stove, comfortable sofa, dining table, spacious bathroom and everything I needed for a relaxing couple of nights away.
None of those features, however, were the reason I booked it.
A Musical Sleep
The reason I booked it was the bed. Because the bed is made from two pianos.
As soon as I saw the listing, I knew I had to stay there. There was absolutely no resisting the idea of spending a weekend sleeping in a piano. The fact that the rest of the cottage looked charming was almost beside the point.
Thankfully, the reality lived up to the promise. The piano bed was surprisingly elegant, beautifully put together and, perhaps most importantly, extremely comfortable. I was initially a little disappointed to discover that neither piano actually played, but it did not take long to realise that being serenaded by accidental piano notes every time I rolled over in the night would probably become rather irritating.
The musical theme continued throughout the cottage. Sheet music and memorabilia decorated the walls, there was an excellent digital radio, and a soundbar connected to the television provided suitably impressive audio quality. It was the sort of place that encouraged spending an evening listening to Mozart, Chopin and Duke Ellington while gazing thoughtfully into the wood burner. I spent mine watching the BBC Proms.
In fact, the whole experience left me wondering whether the empty space in my lounge, recently vacated by a pair of Poäng chairs, might actually be the perfect location for a piano. Or perhaps an electric one. I had lessons as a child and, despite the inevitable practice-related frustrations, enjoyed them. Maybe it is time to revisit that particular hobby. Adults are allowed piano lessons too, after all.
Sea Air and Seaside Doughnuts
During my full day in Wales, I headed for the coast and walked a section of the Wales Coast Path from Aberporth. The route took me to Tresaith, where I admired the famous waterfall that tumbles down the cliff and onto the beach, before rewarding myself with fresh seaside doughnuts.
It was hardly an action-packed itinerary, but that was rather the point.
A few hours beside the sea, plenty of fresh air, and a comfortable cottage to return to afterwards proved to be exactly what I needed. Much like the quirky stay itself, it was a reminder that stepping away from everyday life for a couple of days can be enough to reset both body and mind.
There will be a full blog post and video about Ty Nodyn in due course. For now, though, it is enough to say that Quirky Stay 12 was an absolute success. I relaxed almost immediately, loved every minute of sleeping in a piano, and came home reminded once again that small adventures can be every bit as valuable as the big ones
Sauna Stories: Scenic Sauna
One of the other habits I have developed over the past year is making time for things that are genuinely good for my body and mind. At least once a month, this means visiting a sauna with my friend Jenny, giving us both permission to slow down for an hour or two.
September’s sauna ‘adventure’ took us to Scenic Sauna at Far Peak near Northleach. I think this might be one of my favourites so far. Flo Wellbeing still has an edge thanks to its wonderful swimming lake (I was there again this Sunday), but Scenic Sauna is right up there.
The set-up is simple but brilliantly done. A barrel sauna sits at the heart of the experience, surrounded by cold plunges, a cold shower and well-thought-out changing facilities. The atmosphere felt relaxed and welcoming, striking that perfect balance between wellness retreat and somewhere you could happily spend hours chatting with a friend between heat and cold sessions.
Far Peak itself adds to the appeal. There is an excellent café on site, where I enjoyed a very good (and large) fish finger sandwich afterwards. There is even a proper milk vending machine, which somehow delighted me far more than it probably should have, dispensing both fresh milk and milkshakes.
Most importantly, though, I left feeling calmer, lighter and more grounded than when I arrived. That has become a recurring theme with these sauna visits and is perhaps why I keep returning to them.
A full Sauna Stories feature will follow another day. Unlike a couple of recent visits, I actually remembered to take photographs this time! We also noticed that Scenic Sauna runs Wim Hof workshops and, I must admit, I am rather tempted.
That’s Entertainment
It has been a surprisingly entertainment-filled month, despite spending much of it in Romania or sleeping in unusual places. Theatre, audiobooks and the return of autumn television have all helped fill the gaps between the trips, providing a mixture of escapism, mystery and gentle comfort viewing when my brain has needed something a little less demanding.
The Mousetrap (Everyman Theatre Cheltenham)
Agatha Christie’s The Mousetrap played at my local theatre, the Everyman Theatre Cheltenham, as part of its 75th anniversary UK tour. Famous for being the longest-running play in the West End, it felt about time that I finally saw this legendary whodunnit for myself.
Despite having a vague awareness of the story and its iconic status, I genuinely had no idea who the culprit was, which made the twists and suspicions all the more enjoyable. It’s easy to see why audiences have been captivated by this on-stage mystery for more than seven decades.
The cast were excellent across the board, with Emily Laing as Mollie Ralston and Thomas Barrett as Christopher Wren particular standouts, though there wasn’t a weak link among them. The beautiful drawing-room set never needed to do anything flashy. Confined to a single room, it provided the perfect backdrop for the action, with the cast moving around the space so naturally that every scene felt carefully composed and easy to follow. Which makes it perfect for some of the smaller theatres around the UK.
By the interval I had half an idea of who might have done it, which turned out to be only half right… One of my favourite parts of the evening was joining in as the audience discussed theories. Whether that’s a local theatre thing or an Agatha Christie thing, I’m not sure, but there was something rather wonderful about sharing the mystery with a room full of amateur detectives.
An absolute classic, and one that deserves its reputation. Whether you catch it in the West End or on tour somewhere near you, go and see it. And of course, no spoilers.
Easy Audiobooks
I got through a couple of audiobooks in September, both of which firmly belong in the ‘easy listening but thoroughly enjoyable’ category.
First up was Disenchanted by Lucy Jane Wood (Amazon, Audible), the third book in her wonderfully witchy universe. I’ve really enjoyed spending time in the world Wood has created, and this latest instalment was no exception. Her character work remains one of the strongest parts of her writing, making it easy to settle into the story and genuinely care about what happens next. The plot kept me engaged throughout, and there was enough intrigue and momentum to keep me pressing play whenever I had a spare moment.
As far as travel audiobooks go, it was pretty much perfect. I listened on my bus, plane and train journey to Brasov, and it provided exactly the kind of immersive but undemanding entertainment that works so well when you’re on the move. Not every book needs to be life changing. Sometimes you just want a good story well told, and Disenchanted delivers exactly that.
My second audiobook was A Curious Ending by Sally Page (Amazon, Audible), which I absolutely loved. Page has a real gift for creating warm, engaging stories that pull you in almost immediately, and this unusual whodunnit proved to be a great companion on several long drives during the latter half of the month.
While it may not be the sort of mystery that has you frantically scribbling notes and analysing clues, it kept me interested from beginning to end and became increasingly compelling as the story unfolded. It currently sits at four stars on Audible, but for me it was a solid five-star listen. Sometimes there is enormous value in books that simply entertain, and this one did that beautifully.
Autumn Telly
I know autumn has arrived when my television starts making a regular appearance in my evenings again.
Watching television has never been a huge part of my life. In fact, for years I barely watched any at all. Yet somewhere along the way, particularly during this chapter of grief, I have come to appreciate having an hour or two of easy viewing available when I need to switch off after dinner. It is rarely the main event of the evening, often accompanying a bit of personal admin, some journalling, or simply a chance to rest my brain before bed.
My current line-up is hardly highbrow. At the moment I’m enjoying the latest series of Taskmaster, Celebrity Great British Pottery Throw Down, The Great British Bake Off, RuPaul’s Drag Race UK and, having only just started, Celebrity Traitors.
What they all have in common is that they are easy to drop into, entertaining without requiring too much emotional investment, and guaranteed to provide a few laughs, surprises or moments of gentle jeopardy. In a season of life when my brain sometimes feels overloaded, there is something deeply comforting about television that asks very little of me while still providing plenty of enjoyment.
The biggest question, of course, is who is going to win Celebrity Traitors. I am far too early in the series to make any sensible predictions yet, but I suspect many of you already have strong opinions. Feel free to share yours.
See You Next Time
As I sit down to finish this month’s journal, my mind keeps drifting back to a forest clearing in the Carpathians and a brown bear snuffling through the twilight. I’ve had some wonderful experiences this year, but that twenty-minute encounter is undoubtedly one of the highlights. Not because it was rare, although it was. Not because it made for good photographs, because it definitely didn’t. But because it connected so many threads from the past and present in one quietly magical moment.
September reminded me, once again, that adventure and travel continue to be a good thing for me. Sometimes that means flying to another country. Sometimes it means sleeping in a piano. Other times it means sitting in a sauna, walking with friends, or taking a detour simply because it sounds interesting. Large adventures and small adventures both count.
October is already shaping up to be another busy one. Quirky Stay 13 takes me down to Devon, and the month is heavily focused on live performance. There will be a trip to London’s West End for Rent and Oliver!, my first-ever invitation to a theatre press night (which feels delightfully exciting), a couple of productions at my local theatre, and the Royal Shakespeare Company’s new production of As You Like It starring Jonathan Groff. In other words, there will be plenty of mini reviews heading your way next month!
See you next time.
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