Hi plum,

It’s 10pm on a Wednesday night right now with just the right amount of humidity and mountain coolness in the air that it’s almost too good to go to bed. So I’m sitting here in the lounge, with candles and wine and you.

I’m listening to this song called Somebody Else by the 1975. I’ve really been enjoying this album for the late nights the past few weeks. The album name is:

I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it


I’ve put a live version in here because I don’t much like the music video, but I love how ethereal and electric this performance is. I can almost imagine being there. 😍

This track is one of those songs where you feel like every time you hear the artist perform it, you get a little more out of it. Like they’re pouring themselves into it, and it’s an endless flow of raw emotion.

I think another song like that is Do I Wanna Know? by the Arctic Monkeys or About Today by The National –

Towards the end of that song, he sings:

Hey, are you awake? 

Yeah, I’m right here. 

Well, can I ask you about today? 

How close am I to losing you? 

It always makes my chest a little heavy when I hear it – 

It’s the same with this song by The 1975.

I can imagine 19-year-old me loving it too. Out in a dark city. Vodka soda lime in hand. (Fyi this drink is called the Skinny Bitch and was my drink of choice for a good few years.)

My favourite thing about going out to the city is when you’re just drunk enough that you feel like you’re disappearing into the music and getting lost amongst all the people.

If this song was an experience, that’s what it would be.

Sorry for the musical exposition!

I’ve had a really difficult week being away from you. Reading your last email broke my heart a little. I hadn’t cried since before you left. I don’t know why it affected me as much as it did. It’s been six weeks, shouldn’t it be easier?

I don’t know. It feels like it gets harder by the day. I keep thinking about other people, who do this regularly. Like Bianca has a friend whose boyfriend works on ships and he’s gone for months at a time, and it’s not temporary. It’s his career.

I suppose if you have to do it, then you just find a way to get through it like anything else.

Anyway, I’m doing my best. But I can’t explain how happy I am that there’s an end to this and I get to have you back soon.


I found a folder of stuff on my old hard drive today from uni. Mostly research papers and essays and random bits. But amongst it all was an essay I’d written at the end of second or third year. I think we were supposed to reflect on what kind of work we wanted to do and like all idealistic journalism students, I had set out to make some kind of meaningful change in the world.

So I wrote about how I wanted to specialise in environmental law and journalism. And about being a vegetarian (not sure if you know that I was vegetarian for 5 years). And about wanting to work in marine research.

I felt back then (as I do now) that there’s so much academia that never makes it past the four walls of a university. Academics and researchers and the people with all the knowledge are not the people who develop policies and laws and aren’t the people who write headlines. So I wanted to be the bridge, I think. I don’t know.

Ah, to be young and full of dreams!

That said, I realise it must seem to you like my job at the moment is awful. And I have daily moments of:

But the part that I love and that really gets me thinking and motivated is when a client comes to you with a business that’s their baby, and I get to spend time figuring out how to connect their idea and their dream with people who might buy into the dream.

Mostly it’s a slog of emails and eye rolls but I do love that part.

I’ve toyed with the idea of doing an MBA because I think I’d probably do really well as a freelance business development strategist. But we’ll see how that goes. As it stands, I do not have 100K for another degree.

If you would just let me be a stripper for like one year, it would solve all our problems!

Chat soon, my love.

Sail safe.


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