Going South.

I've dreamt of a trip to Ventnor for this entire half term and Friday was the day: I've finally managed to make it down South. The day seemed perfect: the sun was shining, storm Doris was long forgotten and I was actually awake enough to make it to the bus in the morning.

My destination was Ventnor Botanic Gardens and it takes quite a bit of willpower to get there if you don't drive. There is one bus going to Ventnor and it comes only twice an hour (which is still better than on a Sunday when it's once an hour only). But it doesn't take you all the way down to the Gardens. Oh no, that would be far too easy. Instead, you need to get off in the centre and then either hope that a community minibus will come some time soon (and it only comes three times in the morning, that's all), or that number 6 comes to take you to the vicinity of the Gardens. "To the vicinity", because the stop right next to the entrance is out of use.

The alternative is a brisk walk along a road with fairy tale houses. Not a bad alternative on such a beautiful day.

You really do need to keep going to get there...

Now, the Botanic Gardens were fab even at this time of the year. I was a bit worried, because it's only February and it's not a particularly good time for plants, but there were surprising amounts of greenery all around and I even managed to find some flowers!

Sadly, I haven't seen any kangaroos, despite multiple warning signs...

I'm not much into plants to be honest, in fact I kill them: I even have a knitted cactus now, because I actually managed to make a succulent die. So I didn't really appreciate the variety of plants in the Gardens, but I did really enjoy walking around and catching all those sunny spells while reading a book. The café is also fantastic, thumbs up for a comfy sofa and delicious organic tea.

Interesting facts: the Gardens are the home to the oldest palm trees in the UK (150 years they are apparently) and the microclimate in the Gardens is such that it is 5 degrees warmer there than on the mainland.

There isn't too much too do in Ventnor apart from visiting the Gardens (Ventnor Heritage Museum anyone?): I've mentioned Steephill Cove before (beautiful little place) but that's about it. However, there is a multitude of cafes and restaurants here. Cantina is apparently one of the best places for breakfast in the UK, so this will be my next stop.

Sunday Special: Go out into the world.

I have never particularly wanted to have an exclusively "Catholic" life.

And by this I mean hanging out with almost exclusively Catholic friends, working for a Catholic agency, sending children to Catholic schools, reading Catholic magazines, going to Catholic gatherings, etc.

There is nothing wrong with doing these things, but I feel that if you cushion yourself so tightly with all things Catholic, you lose the sight of the vast majority of the world that is not Catholic. And this is a lot of people, places, communities and opportunities that end up beyond your reach.

He said to them, "Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation."

(Mark 16:15)

If we take these words seriously, then how can you choose to "stick to your own"? Why not make a conscious effort to be with the people who live without God, who feel down, are unhappy or lost? I think it is so beautiful that you are able to bring your joy into somebody else's life. On a daily basis. I'm not saying that you need to preach. But your life is the best witness. The way you are with other people. And you can influence their life in a very positive way without being pushy. Just by being you.

I like to keep in the loop of Catholic things, keeping up to date with all the wonderful things people do But at the end of the day, I live in the world which I far from religious. And I feel like I need to embrace it in order to make a difference.

Do you wear makeup?

I've been asked this question so many times... In particular by makeup-heavy pupils.

The short answers is no.

The long one is the following.

I've resisted wearing makeup pretty much until my 18th birthday, bar a couple of occasions when I put mascara on. For a few years after my 18th birthday I struggled with putting makeup on, but persevered nonetheless. I wouldn't do it absolutely every day, but I would definitely make this effort if I was going out or meeting someone. This became a confidence thing. I could hide behind a layer of foundation and powder, and finally not worry about my excessively rosy cheeks, spots and whatever else I thought of as problematic.

And then I've started dating more seriously and, somewhat ironically, I've realised that the boys don't mind seeing me first thing in the morning without makeup but with wonderfully puffy face. They just liked being around me, they didn't care about the content of my cosmetic pouched being evenly spread on my face.

The thing is, the majority of people couldn't care less if you wear makeup or not, so why even bother? It takes up so much time in the morning and the last thing I want to do is to spend 10-15 minutes trying to get my face sorted.

I had a brief romance with mineral makeup products when I started working in London and didn't want to be completely makeup-free, but the prospects of loading potentially harmful substances onto my skin was not appealing at all. But again, it was a mental thing. I felt terribly insecure and thus found a way to hide myself being a (thin) layer of powder. See, if I need makeup to feel confident, it means that there is something wrong. I should feel good enough about myself to just be myself without any artificial improvements.

I hope that my students, seeing me every day without makeup, will take me as a positive role model. That it is not necessary for a woman to cover her natural beauty like that. That you can be confident, successful and liked without makeup. There is such a huge pressure on young girls these days to look perfect: and this has serious implications for their mental health.

No makeup for me then. Instead, just accepting the way I am. Liking the way I am.

Sunday Special: Not at home.

I've become increasingly aware of faith as a communal affair. I will like a lone island now, which is indeed a lonely position to find yourself in. The vast majority of the parishioners are elderly and the feel really distant. For me as a young woman, it is impossible to relate to anyone here.

One woman island.

It's difficult. God is the same, the liturgy is the same, but I don't feel like I'm a part of this at all. Just a mere visitor, albeit a regular one. Church is no longer home, though I wish it was. I wish it was as before. A Church filled with young vibrant hearts thirsting for God. None of this here, sadly.

I will need to continue to feed myself off Nightfever in Gosport and worship music on the way to work. I'm not sure, though, how long I can go on like this. It already feels like a walk across a desert. And a long one.