My life was pretty simple and really stable until about 8 months ago. I was at the University of Warwick studying for a Law degree, I had two great jobs as a Business Coach and a Make Up Artist. I had a gorgeous boyfriend who I’d fallen in love with at just 16 and I had (and still do have) the most amazing family and friends. My life consisted mostly of University, working through the week and then racing down the M6 on a Friday night to be able to spend a few days at home. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed my Monday-Friday, between Corporate Tax Law lectures we still found time for a good drink and games nights in our Uni house. It was wonderful- but it didn’t compare to snuggling up on the sofa with my guy- peppermint tea in hand and MTV’s Catfish on the tele.

I’ve always worked hard and performed well in my work. I was able to land my dream graduate job. Big money, flash company car, lots of perks, lots of responsibility, and an awful lot of hours. My partner had told me during the application process that he hoped I wouldn’t get the job. It stung. When I was offered the job I knew he was genuinely happy for me and proud but his words had already caused a rift between us. It became all too apparent how we wanted very different lifestyles. He’s a simple and honest guy who loves the outdoors and family time. I’m a fiery business woman who wants to build an empire and then spend my fortune on gorgeous holidays and New Zealand Sauvignon. I was always wanting more from him and he was always wanting me to be less.

After a final trip to Paris for my Birthday we called it quits on our almost five year long relationship. There were of course moments in Paris where I remembered exactly why we were together- one morning in particular when we lay in bed kissing and laughing unbothered about the time we were wasting when we should’ve been sight seeing. Or how he would carry my tampons in his coat pocket so I didn’t have to carry a bag around Paris. His beard. His appetite. But when you end up having a row over dinner and run back to your Parisian apartment crying the chances are things aren’t right.


Did ya see what I done- came Warwick did Law and got a 2:1

We’re over.

So we were over. Not ideal timing. Final year of University- but in time I learnt I’d be OK- more than OK in fact. I miss him, and I still think of him every day of course- but the thoughts aren’t painful anymore. I remember him with a type of warm fondness and find peace in knowing that I tried my best to salvage our relationship. We had met one night about two months after we’d split and I had even offered to give up the job and take up another offer I’d had with less hours. As the words left my mouth I knew it was something I should never have had to say and wouldn’t have followed up on anyway, and although it had been what he’d wanted to hear he didn’t want me to give up on my dreams and have me resent him. I realised in that moment when we make sacrifices for the right person it won’t actually feel like you are ‘giving up’ on something you want like my last minute offering did in the car that night, instead your sacrifice will feel trivial in comparison to the gain.

There was one pang in particular though that I couldn’t shake- what about a holiday? We had gone on several holidays every year- Morocco, Ibiza, Menorca, Turkey, Egypt and Paris to name a few. I LIVED for a good holiday, it was after all what I worked for year round. All of my girlfriends were either in long term relationships or strapped for cash. I knew I had to get away- I’d spent three years grafting over my degree and was about to start a stressful job in the new academic year.

Protaras, Cyprus

A week of good food, good wine and good company in Protaras, Cyprus

I’ve got to get away…

I booked a holiday to Cyprus with my Grandma and my sister and it was devine. Gorgeous 5* Adult’s Only civilised masterpiece on the beach – and just what I needed. I even went on a date whilst I was there with a cheeky Londoner I’d met at the bar on my first night. We met a further two times in fact and another time in the UK. That story is still unfinished.  My grandma and sister didn’t mind my galavanting since they knew he managed a successful London construction and basement conversion company for those expensive London Town houses and mansions. We chatted over cocktails and he told me about his life- at 36 he’d seen and experienced a lot more than myself. He told me I really needed to travel before my career took off. I listened.

Going solo…

I realised the Greek Islands were exactly the place for a young girl to travel alone. Safe and amazing feta cheese. I went back to the UK, graduated, signed my employment contract and booked a one way flight back to Cyprus. And when I say ‘travel’ I don’t mean travel in the traditional back-pack chaffing sense, that’s not me. I’ve stayed in some of the most gorgeous Villas and hotels on the islands and you can read all about them and book them here on my blog in posts to come.

Cyprus > Santorini > Mykonos let’s see what I can learn about you, and me.

Abbie x