When people ask me why on earth I went back to teaching after leaving it behind to work in the theatre for a couple of years, I always laugh and say - for July and August. Of course, of course, I went back for the children - but the summer holidays are most certainly the cherries on top of the cake, the delicious taste of which I missed unbearably when sweating away in an office above the Globe theatre last July.

I’ve been on my holidays for three blissful weeks already, and I feel like I have returned to myself after what was an incredibly busy and quite emotionally fraught final term. As soon as school finished, I was in the car and driving straight down to my happy place - Devon - where I stayed in a magical cabin on the North coast, right on the border of Cornwall, and had a wonderful time watching the roiling waves hitting the rocky shores, wandering amidst fern-filled lanes, pottering around pretty coastal villages and eating multiple cream teas. I slept, I read, I relaxed. The weather was not quite what I had been hoping for - far too cold and damp for any sea swimming - but in many ways, the less than ideal temperatures made me feel less pressured to be out and about, and allowed me to just enjoy being still in surroundings where I didn’t have to worry about doing the washing/hoovering/cleaning. Such a joy.

This part of Devon and Cornwall has much to satisfy the literary traveller. Just outside of the pretty harbour village of Boscastle is the sleepy village of St Juliot’s, where Thomas Hardy met Emma Gifford, his first wife, after being commissioned to prepare a report on repairs required to the church. In the church is a striking memorial window to Thomas Hardy, and outside is a beautiful wildflower-filled graveyard with gorgeous views across the rolling fields down to the sea. It certainly is a spot you can imagine being the setting for a Victorian romance. In nearby Morwenstow, the poet reverend Robert Hawker, a well-known nineteenth century figure who has now been largely forgotten, built his vicarage with its four chimneys built to represent the four towers of the churches he had worked in during his career. The church tells the story of his life in some beautifully made felt panels created by the local community, and there is a wonderful cliff-top walk to the National Trust’s smallest property, Hawker’s Hut, where he wrote much of his literary output. Right next to the church is also the Rectory Farm Tearooms, which do a tremendous cream tea - not to be missed. Not far from Boscastle, on the road through Bodmin Moor, is Jamaica Inn, of Daphne du Maurier fame, where there is a small museum about her and her work, and a tremendously tacky restaurant, full of ye olde fixtures and fittings. It’s not easy to imagine how this place can have inspired Du Maurier these days, but for die hard fans, it’s worth a brief stop while en route elsewhere. For more Du Maurier, a drive to the breathtaking Hartland Quay takes you to the set of the most recent film version of Rebecca, where you can see photos of how the hotel on the cliff was transformed into Manderley’s local village and where the wreck of Rebecca’s boat was pulled from the waves. On the outskirts of Hartland is Hartland Abbey, a beautiful stately home that has been the location for many a period drama - most famously Sense and Sensibility - and a walk down to its private beach to see the Morlands’ cottage is a must (and the cafe is very good!). Even in wet weather, therefore, there is still plenty to see and do. If you’ve not been to this part of the UK, I highly recommend it.

After a couple of days back home in London to play in a piano concert (very amateur - I am no great shakes!) and do my washing! - I was back on my travels, this time to Europe. I spent a magical few days in Switzerland, a country I had never visited before, where I stayed with a friend and colleague who has lived between there and here for many years. Her local knowledge enabled me to see the area we stayed in through the eyes of those who live there, and it was a glimpse of a life that looked very attractive indeed. We stayed in a lakeside hotel in Lutry, a beautiful small town on the shores of Lake Léman, just outside of Lausanne. We swam in the lake and at the amazing outdoor community pool at nearby Pully, we watched the Euros final in a big screen by the lake (a very different experience to watching it in a pub in London, that’s for sure!), we drove up into the vineyards and across the mountains to Gstaad and Gruyères, we went to the jazz festival at Montreux and we had lovely lazy lakeside dinners in Lausanne. I loved every minute. Switzerland felt clean in a way I have never experienced before - the air felt utterly pure and fresh, everywhere we went was neat and well cared for, and I felt cleansed just being there. I woke up every morning to a view of the blue of the lake meeting the shadowy blue of the French mountains meeting the blue of the sky. Up in the mountains, the countryside rolled away into the distance, all green and gold and luscious, with snow-capped peaks glittering in the sun. Everyone looked tanned and lean and healthy. Every house had cascades of flowers tumbling from balconies. It was like being in a film set.

It was very hard to tear myself away, but I had my dear friend to go and meet in Denmark, so I reluctantly boarded a train to Geneva, which whisked me past more beautiful lakeside towns and villages, and flew North. I landed in sunny Copenhagen and boarded a train to Gilleleje, a pretty seaside town on the North Zealand coast, two hours north of the capital. This area is known as the Danish Riviera, and is a very popular holiday spot for Danes and Swedes. I had a joyful reunion with my friend, who moved to Copenhagen last year, and we had a wonderful few days enjoying this beautiful part of the world. We stayed in the Gilbjerg Strandhotel, which was a perfect base - right on the beach, and a half an hour walk along the coastal path into the town. We loved walking up and down this coastal path, looking at all of the traditional summer houses (it’s a very common Danish custom to have a summer house) and marvelling at the views across the sea to Sweden. Using the excellent local public transport, we were able to get out and about to see various places of interest - we particularly loved visiting the Rudolph Tegners Museum and Sculpture Park, and the Munkeruphus art museum, which is the former home of the artist Gunnar Aagaard Andersen. Both of these are set in stunning locations, enabling the art to become part of the landscape, and the landscape to become part of the art, and we could happily have stayed at both places all day.

We loved pottering around the little towns - Denmark does retail so well - and sitting on the beach, watching the world go by and chatting. The weather was kind to us, and so we were able to do a couple of early morning swims in the sea - bliss - and after so many weeks of depressing weather in England, it was lovely to be able to unfurl and feel the warmth of the sun and the freshness of seawater on my skin. It was very hard for both of us to leave Gilleleje behind, and getting off the train in the busyness of Copenhagen’s central station was a bit of a shock after our days of quiet amidst the space of the coast and countryside. However, it was lovely to see a bit of Copenhagen in the sun - the last time I visited in February, it was absolutely freezing - and my friend whizzed me round a few sites before I had to get to the airport for my flight back to London.

It’s been glorious to get away, see new places, spend time with good friends, and get glimpses of different possible lives. I feel refreshed for it. Next week I’m off on an entirely opposite type of holiday - a week in my beloved New York (for those new to my blog, I lived there in my twenties), which I haven’t visited since the summer of 2019 - far too long. So I can’t wait to see old friends and revisit old haunts, as well as see what’s changed since I last walked its streets. But for now - a brief hiatus of reading, pottering, and having the time to enjoy London. Such a joy.