Andalusia

For the first time in five years, I’ve had a trip: Andalusia, Spain.

I stayed in a small mountain community, higher than Snowden, but with a view of the sea.

The town’s water came from the Rio Chiller mountains, and I’d hike along the ridge every day; early morning or early evening (bit scary walking along a sheer drop once the sun’s set, but I liked it). It’s the best place I’ve ever read a book.

As I used to be a keen swimmer – doing training as a kid – I’d walk between the dry riverbed of the mountains, down to the sea. But I quickly realised it had also been five years since I had swam. So I was pretty shit.

So, not knowing when I would next get to travel, I hiked and swam every day. With three weeks’ straight work either side of the trip on The Edinburgh TV Festival, Operation Ouch, and BGT – and often twelve hour days – I was violently sick on my first day off. But I’m most myself when I’m travelling.

And to cap it off, as there was no spare room where I was staying, I slept under the stars for the week on the terrace. It’s mad how many shooting stars you can see in real dark.

I also made friends with a stray dog.