Into The Deep End
20 Letters #13
This is the thirteenth instalment of a series, 20 Letters, where I share letters I wrote and sent via the post, throughout 2020 and 2021, to people in my life. Read more here.
Dear P,
Greetings from Corfu, Greece! I started writing this letter on day 3 of an 8-day solo trip. With a second lockdown looming in the UK, and mandatory vacation time to take from my job, I’ve escaped the bustle and distractions of London. My days here have consisted of writing, reading, beaching, and eating. I’m staying in a tiny beachside spot with only one villa and one taverna still open, since it’s the very end of tourist season. On my first full day, I rented a quad bike and drove through the hills to explore the island. I settled on a remote beach, which was only accessible by a precarious drive through mud, gravel, rocks, and sand. When I arrived, there wasn’t a single person as far as I could see in any direction. The beach was littered with broken boats, plastic garbage, and miles of grey and brown seaweed that looked like unspooled film from an ancient camera. I spent a few hours there, laying on the sand, doing yoga, reading and writing. Periodically, I would look up and scan the beach, expecting to see someone in the distance. There was never anyone. I felt a pang of loneliness, the sharp realisation that I was, in that precise place and time, truly alone. I felt vulnerable. If suddenly something bad happened – if my quad bike stopped working, if I went swimming and was swept away by the current, or if I fell on the rocks and broke my leg, I would be stuck there, lost, or worse. It was strange and a little scary; not feelings I experience in my relatively safe and controlled life in London. Rather than give into the anxiety, my adrenaline kicked in and my confidence took over; I told myself that I would handle whatever happened. I would persevere. Suffice to say, I returned to the villa safely.
