It’s Not Really About The LBW!

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Readers who follow my blog will know that I write about Emotional Intelligence (EQ). It’s a subject I’ve always been fascinated by, partly because it’s played such an important role in my working life and partly because, according to every evaluation I’ve ever had, I seem to be quite good at it.

Throughout my career, I consistently identified Emotional Intelligence as a strength. My scores were high, not just at my current level; they stayed high when I was assessed for the next level, too.

So either I genuinely have a talent for understanding people and emotions, or I’ve become exceptionally good at filling out evaluation forms.

I’ll let you decide 😂

But over the years, I’ve realised that Emotional Intelligence isn’t just about understanding other people. Some of the most useful work is understanding ourselves, particularly when our emotions get the better of us.

And that brings me to today’s subject: Anger.

Because sometimes, what we call anger isn’t quite what we’re feeling.

Are You Really Angry?

Think about the last time you lost your temper. Perhaps someone cancelled at the last minute. A colleague didn’t do what they promised. Your partner arrived home late. Someone said something that hit a nerve.

You feel angry.

But what if anger is only the first layer?

Perhaps you’re actually frustrated, or hurt or even disappointed.

Perhaps you feel ignored or disrespected.

Perhaps you’ve had a difficult day, and you’re simply exhausted.

Sometimes, what makes us angry isn’t what’s really bothering us. It’s just what pushes us over the edge.

Take the classic example: you’re batting well, feeling settled at the crease after a long, stressful build-up to the match, and the umpire raises the finger — plumb LBW.

Normally, you might walk off, shrug and get on with it.

Today, you snap!

“No Way! Why does that decision always go against me?”

It feels like you’re angry about the LBW.

But perhaps you’re exhausted. Perhaps you’ve had a difficult few weeks. Perhaps you’ve been rushing around, haven’t had a moment to yourself and have absolutely nothing left in the tank.

The decision is simply the final straw, but recognising that doesn’t mean the umpire’s finger magically goes back down.

Unfortunately.

But it might mean you respond differently. Instead of snapping, you might say.

“I’ve had a really stressful few weeks. I just need ten minutes to unwind in the changing room”

Same LBW.

Very different conversation.

The Importance of Finding the Right Words

This is where emotional granularity comes in. It sounds like a complicated psychological term, but the idea is actually very simple. Emotional granularity means getting better at identifying exactly what you’re feeling.

Rather than putting everything into broad categories such as “I’m fine”, “I’m stressed” or “I’m angry”, you try to find a word that fits more closely.

The angry emotion hasn’t disappeared; you’ve simply understood it more accurately. And that can make a difference to what you do next.

Why Does It Matter?

Because different emotions can need different responses.

If I’m frustrated, perhaps I need to solve a problem.

If I’m disappointed, perhaps I need to adjust my expectations.

If I’m hurt, perhaps I need to explain how something made me feel.

If I’m overwhelmed, perhaps what I actually need is some space.

And if I’m angry?

Perhaps I need to have a difficult conversation.

Perhaps I need to set a boundary.

Or perhaps I need to take ten minutes before I say something I’ll regret.

That small pause between feeling something and acting on it can be incredibly useful.

For me, the more precise the word, the more clearly I understand what I’m experiencing.

Of course, being emotionally intelligent doesn’t mean you suddenly become perfect at managing your emotions.

Sometimes you still lose your temper, and sometimes you still have the argument about the LBW decision.

How Can We Get Better At It?

The good news is that emotional granularity is something we can practise, and anger is a good starting point, as it’s one of the emotions we often feel more than others.

When you notice yourself becoming angry, pause before deciding that anger is the whole story.

Ask yourself: What else am I feeling?

You don’t need to find a complicated explanation. Just see whether another word fits better.

Go one layer deeper and imagine your partner is late.

Your immediate reaction might be: “I’m annoyed.”

But why?

Perhaps you’re frustrated because you’ve been waiting.

Perhaps you’re disappointed because you were looking forward to seeing them.

Perhaps you’re hurt because they didn’t think to tell you.

Perhaps you feel disrespected.

The more accurately you understand the feeling, the more useful the conversation can become.

Put it into words

When it feels appropriate, try being more specific when talking to someone.

Instead of:

“You’re being unfair.” Try:

“I’m feeling dismissed and a bit hurt.”

It doesn’t guarantee the other person will respond perfectly, as sadly, emotional granularity doesn’t come with a remote control for other people. But at least they have a clearer idea of what you’re actually trying to tell them.

Don’t Overthink It

There is also a danger of taking this too far. We don’t need to analyse every emotion we experience. Sometimes you’re angry because someone has behaved badly.

And sometimes you’re just annoyed because the umpire’s finger has gone up in your last three innings!

Emotional granularity isn’t about finding the perfect word or turning every feeling into a psychological investigation.

It’s simply about becoming a little more curious about what is happening inside us.

What I’m Learning

For me, the most useful part of Emotional Intelligence isn’t identifying every emotion perfectly. It’s creating a small pause between what I feel and what I do about it because that pause gives me a choice.

I can still be angry.

I can still be disappointed.

I can still say that something isn’t acceptable.

But I’m more likely to respond to what’s actually happening rather than simply reacting to the emotion that arrived first.

So the next time you feel yourself getting angry, try asking yourself one simple question:

“What am I really feeling?”

You might be surprised by the answer.

And if the answer is still “angry”?

Well, at least you know where you stand.

Now, about that LBW decision…

Portreath to St Ives – South West Coast Path

Hi everyone, I’m back with the next part of my Adventures on the Cornish Coast Path series. This time, I walk from Portreath to St Ives on a late-September day that feels almost perfect: clear blue skies, soft autumnal light, and a gentle breeze to keep me cool. The gorse still bears a few yellow flowers, the heather has faded to muted purples and browns, and the season’s crisp, earthy scent fills the air.

Portreath to the North Cliffs

This is a substantial day: roughly 18 miles with around 2,000 feet of elevation gain overall. Most people need 7–8½ hours at a steady pace, longer if you linger for photos, seals or ice cream. I’m aiming for 8 hours, and I’ve had my caffeine to help me along the way. As usual, to save a few pennies, my rucksack is packed with lots of goodies for along the way.

Café opening hours vary, especially late in the season, so check before you rely on them. If your legs start to protest, you can bail out at Lelant Saltings or Carbis Bay, both on the St Ives Bay branch line. Hayle is on the mainline, so from there you would change at St Erth for the branch to St Ives.

After the initial climb out of Portreath, the path settles into long, relatively level stretches along the clifftops and downs, so it doesn’t feel relentlessly up and down. I always break it into natural sections so the miles feel more manageable.

I leave Portreath car park and climb steeply up. The path quickly rises above the beach and the old mining port. Soon, you pass a rocky cleft in the cliffs that smugglers once favoured for stashing their loot. Beyond it, the path passes Gull Rock and Basset’s Cove, with only a few steep climbs before the terrain eases. If Jamie and I decide on a shorter walk, we’ll start from the car park at Basset’s Cove, making it a more relaxed outing.

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Crane Castle to Hell’s Mouth

Next, Crane Castle comes into view, once an Iron Age cliff fort that erosion has largely worn away. It offers views out to the Crane Islands. From here, the trail levels out for a long, enjoyable stretch across Reskajeage Downs and the North Cliffs. Today the landscape looked wild and open, even in the sunshine, with views stretching back towards St Agnes Beacon (my home) and ahead towards Godrevy and the curve of St Ives Bay. 

As I walked past the darkly named Deadman’s Cove and Hudder Down, I reached Hell’s Mouth, a high, jagged stretch of cliff where the Atlantic crashes against the rocks far below, with a drop of around 88 metres. It’s definitely more beautiful than it sounds 😂. The dramatic landscape offers unforgettable height and exposure rather than a deep gorge. A nearby café offers a quick refuel, but check its opening times. In summer, Jamie and I enjoy fish and chips out of their wrappers and watch the sunset from this magnificent viewing spot.

Godrevy and St Ives Bay

From here, the path heads out around Navax Point and the Knavocks towards Godrevy Point. Keep an eye out for the small herd of Shetland ponies the National Trust uses to graze the Knavocks. They are a bit grumpy, and please don’t walk behind them, as you might get a “friendly” kick!

The white lighthouse stands on its rocky island, the same one thought to have inspired Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse. Today, the views across St Ives Bay are spectacular: golden beaches curving away towards Hayle and St Ives itself, with the sea a deep late-season blue. Jamie and I, along with hundreds of others, sat here during the G7 at Carbis Bay. The security was extensive, with navy ships off the coast and radar installations everywhere. Above us, the Red Arrows performed an impressive display.

Godrevy Café, run independently of the National Trust and open most days, makes a good place to rest before the next change of scenery. I absolutely love the Apricot slice, but I always share it rather than eat a whole piece to myself. Watch for seals around Mutton Cove and Godrevy, and keep your distance, particularly during the autumn pupping season.

The Towans and Hayle

After Godrevy, the walk’s character shifts completely. I dropped down onto the long sweep of beaches and the extensive dune systems of the Towans: Gwithian Towans, Upton Towans and Hayle Towans. 

Today I’m in luck as the tide is low. I left the path and strode along the firm sand for miles, which was pure joy in the softer light of September. If you do need to take the dunes, they can be tiring. They are full of marram grass, and I could see the last of the summer wildflowers poking through above the grass.

Eventually, the route brings me to the Hayle estuary. Here, the coast path detours inland through part of Hayle on roads and paths, passing under the railway. It’s the least dramatic section of the day and, to be honest, a bit dull.  But it doesn’t last long.

Once across the river, I follow the flat, estuary-side paths into Lelant. From Lelant, the trail stays low, running beside the golf links and the railway, then through more sand dunes towards Carbis Bay. Only as I near Carbis Bay and the final approach to St Ives do the cliffs return.

The Final Miles to St Ives

The last couple of miles feel almost celebratory. I pass Carbis Bay beach, drop down past Porthminster, and the harbour of St Ives opens up ahead with its white houses and galleries.

I arrive with tired legs and a sense of satisfaction. St Ives is a wonderful place to end the day; my favourite part is the galleries. Artists flock to St Ives mainly for its exceptional natural light, dramatic coastal scenery, cliffs and fishing harbour. Their paintings certainly don’t disappoint. They always seem to reflect happiness.

Portreath to St Ives: The Highlights

This stretch gives you everything the north Cornish coast does best: wild cliffs and rocky coves near the start, long, level walking with big views, seals (treated with respect), sweeping beaches and dunes, and a real sense of arrival in one of Cornwall’s most loved towns, even if it is a bit busy for me.

On a bright late-September day with that gentle autumnal edge, it feels especially rewarding.

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Walking the Cornish Coast Path? 

See all my walks and my 30-day Bude-to-Plymouth itinerary Cornwall’s Coast Path — a 30-day itinerary from Bude to Plymouth

Are You Really Angry?

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Readers who follow my blog will know that I write about Emotional Intelligence (EQ). It’s a subject I’ve always been fascinated by, partly because it has played such an important role in my working life, and partly because, according to every evaluation I’ve ever had, I seem to be quite good at it.

Throughout my career, Emotional Intelligence was consistently identified as a strength. My scores were high, and not just at the level I was working at; they stayed high when I was assessed for the next level too.

So, either I genuinely have a talent for understanding people and emotions, or I’ve become exceptionally good at completing evaluation forms.

I’ll let you decide 😂

But over the years, I’ve realised that Emotional Intelligence isn’t just about understanding other people. Some of the most useful work is understanding ourselves, particularly when our emotions get the better of us.

And that brings me to today’s subject: Anger.

Because sometimes, what we call anger isn’t quite what we’re feeling.

Are You Really Angry?

Think about the last time you lost your temper. Perhaps someone cancelled at the last minute. A colleague didn’t do what they promised. Your partner arrived home late. Someone said something that hit a nerve.

You feel angry.

But what if anger is only the first layer?

Perhaps you’re actually frustrated, or hurt or even disappointed.

Perhaps you feel ignored or disrespected.

Perhaps you’ve had a difficult day, and you’re simply exhausted.

Sometimes, what makes us angry isn’t what’s really bothering us. It’s just what pushes us over the edge.

Take the classic example: you arrive home after a long, stressful day, find someone’s shoes lying in the hallway, and trip over them.

Normally, you might ignore them or even laugh.

Today, you shout!

“Why do I always have to do everything in this house?”

It feels like you’re angry about the shoes.

But perhaps you’re exhausted. Perhaps you’ve had a difficult day. Perhaps you’ve been rushing around, haven’t had a moment to yourself and have absolutely nothing left in the tank.

The shoes are simply the final straw, but recognising that doesn’t mean the shoes magically disappear.

Unfortunately.

But it might mean you respond differently. Instead of shouting, you might say.

“I’ve had a really stressful day. I just need ten minutes to unwind.”

Same shoes.

Very different conversation.

The Importance of Finding the Right Words

This is where emotional granularity comes in. It sounds like a complicated psychological term, but the idea is actually very simple. Emotional granularity means getting better at identifying exactly what you’re feeling.

Rather than putting everything into broad categories such as “I’m fine”, “I’m stressed” or “I’m angry”, you try to find a word that fits more closely.

The angry emotion hasn’t disappeared; you’ve simply understood it more accurately. And that can make a difference to what you do next.

Why Does It Matter?

Because different emotions can need different responses.

If I’m frustrated, perhaps I need to solve a problem.

If I’m disappointed, perhaps I need to adjust my expectations.

If I’m hurt, perhaps I need to explain how something made me feel.

If I’m overwhelmed, perhaps what I actually need is some space.

And if I’m angry?

Perhaps I need to have a difficult conversation.

Perhaps I need to set a boundary.

Or perhaps I need to take ten minutes before I say something I’ll regret.

That small pause between feeling something and acting on it can be incredibly useful.

For me, the more precise the word, the more clearly I understand what I’m experiencing.

Of course, being emotionally intelligent doesn’t mean you suddenly become perfect at managing your emotions.

Sometimes you still lose your temper, and sometimes you still have the argument about the shoes.

How Can We Get Better At It?

The good news is that emotional granularity is something we can practise, and anger is a good starting point, as it’s one of the emotions we often feel more than others.

When you notice yourself becoming angry, pause before deciding that anger is the whole story.

Ask yourself: What else am I feeling?

You don’t need to find a complicated explanation. Just see whether another word fits better.

Go one layer deeper and imagine your partner is late.

Your immediate reaction might be: “I’m annoyed.”

But why?

Perhaps you’re frustrated because you’ve been waiting.

Perhaps you’re disappointed because you were looking forward to seeing them.

Perhaps you’re hurt because they didn’t think to tell you.

Perhaps you feel disrespected.

The more accurately you understand the feeling, the more useful the conversation can become.

Put it into words

When it feels appropriate, try being more specific when talking to someone.

Instead of:

“You’re being unfair.” Try:

“I’m feeling dismissed and a bit hurt.”

It doesn’t guarantee the other person will respond perfectly, as sadly, emotional granularity doesn’t come with a remote control for other people. But at least they have a clearer idea of what you’re actually trying to tell them.

Don’t Overthink It

There is also a danger of taking this too far. We don’t need to analyse every emotion we experience. Sometimes you’re angry because someone has behaved badly.

And sometimes you’re just annoyed because someone has left their shoes in the hallway for the hundredth time!

Emotional granularity isn’t about finding the perfect word or turning every feeling into a psychological investigation.

It’s simply about becoming a little more curious about what is happening inside us.

What I’m Learning

For me, the most useful part of Emotional Intelligence isn’t identifying every emotion perfectly. It’s creating a small pause between what I feel and what I do about it because that pause gives me a choice.

I can still be angry.

I can still be disappointed.

I can still say that something isn’t acceptable.

But I’m more likely to respond to what’s actually happening rather than simply reacting to the emotion that arrived first.

So the next time you feel yourself getting angry, try asking yourself one simple question:

“What am I really feeling?”

You might be surprised by the answer.

And if the answer is still “angry”?

Well, at least you know where you stand.

Now, about those shoes…

The Power of Silence

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Cornwall, my home

Hello and welcome to my blog. I’ve always been good at filling the silence. In fact, as it happens, when I’m nervous, I can be remarkably good at it.

Put me in a room with people I don’t know, and I can suddenly find myself talking before my brain has caught up. I’ve often thought that if I keep the conversation going, there can’t be any awkward silences. But over the years, I’ve discovered something rather surprising.

Silence isn’t awkward. Sometimes, it’s powerful.

I first learned this in the workplace, particularly when negotiating contracts. During various training courses, I realised that when I stopped talking, the other side often became uncomfortable and rushed to fill the silence. And what happened next was fascinating.

They often revealed something they hadn’t intended to share, explained their position in more detail, or even offered a concession.

I began to realise that silence wasn’t an absence of communication. It was communication. And whilst I don’t always get it right, that lesson has stayed with me.

We live in a world that seems to reward noise. Have an opinion? Post it. Feel offended? Tell everyone. Win an argument? Make sure people know about it. Social media has made it incredibly easy to react instantly, often before we know the whole story.

But the older I get, the more I appreciate the value of pausing.

I’m certainly not suggesting I’ve mastered it. Far from it. I still say things I wish I hadn’t, react when I should have waited, and occasionally realise five minutes too late that silence would have been the better option.

But I’m learning. And I’ve come to believe that there are times when saying nothing can be one of the strongest things we can do.

So, here are 10 moments when I’ve learned silence might serve you better than words.

1. When you don’t know the full story

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard something, formed an opinion, and then discovered there was another side to the story. Half the facts can create a whole misunderstanding.

This is particularly relevant in the age of social media. We see a headline, a post, or a video and, within seconds, people comment, judge, and share it as fact. I try to remind myself that I don’t actually know what happened just because I’ve seen something online. These days, I do my own research and, in conversations, I try to listen before forming an opinion.

Sometimes the wisest thing you can say is nothing at all, until you know what you’re talking about.

2. When emotions are driving the car

Now this one is particularly challenging for me.

I feel emotions deeply. I do see it as a strength because it means I connect strongly with people and the world around me. But there is a downside.

When I’m angry, hurt or panicking, I can say things in the heat of the moment that feel completely justified. And then, an hour later, I wish I could rewind the conversation.

The problem is, of course, that we can’t.

Words have a way of lingering once they’ve been spoken. No matter how much we wish we could take them back, they often leave an echo behind. I’m learning that when my emotions are steering the car, it’s probably time to pull over 😂

Sometimes I manage it. Sometimes I don’t. But I’m definitely getting better at recognising the warning signs.

A few seconds of restraint can save you an awful lot of apologising later.

3. When your only goal is to hurt someone

Mostly, I believe honesty matters. But I’ve also learned that there is a huge difference between telling the truth and using the truth as a weapon.

We’ve all had moments when someone has annoyed us, and we know exactly which words will hurt them most. And, if we’re honest, sometimes we are tempted to use them.

But if the real purpose of what you’re about to say is to wound someone rather than help, clarify or resolve something, perhaps it isn’t honesty at all. It’s cruelty wearing honesty’s clothes. Social media is a classic example.

Choosing not to say it can be the bigger achievement.

4. When gossip starts making the rounds

I’m not sure why gossip is so irresistible. Perhaps it makes us feel that we’re in the know. Perhaps it gives us a momentary sense of importance. But I’ve never understood why someone else’s private life should become entertainment for everyone else.

You don’t have to join in. You can listen without contributing. You can change the subject.

Choosing not to add your voice to a conversation that is tearing someone else down says a great deal about you.

5. When you can’t say it calmly

There have been plenty of times in my life when I’ve been absolutely convinced that I needed to make my point right now. Looking back, the point could have waited. I was especially guilty in meetings if someone was challenging me

I would never shout, but I still needed to get my point across. I’ve since learned that difficult conversations usually go much better when I’ve had time to calm down and think about what I actually want to achieve.

Wait until you can speak without the emotion doing the talking.

6. When life is going well

This one is perhaps less obvious. We live in a world where success often comes with an announcement. 

New job? Post it.

Holiday? Post it.

Achievement? Definitely post it.

And there’s nothing wrong with celebrating success. I do it too. I use social media to promote my blogs. I also post my photos. I love to see my friends’ success stories and look at photos I otherwise wouldn’t see from my friends and family

But I’ve also discovered that not every good thing needs an audience. Sometimes there is something wonderfully peaceful about enjoying an achievement quietly.

Letting your results speak for themselves.

Being proud without needing everyone else to know.

There’s a quiet confidence in that.

7. When speaking would cost you your peace

This is something I’ve become much better at as I’ve got older. Not every misunderstanding needs correcting, and not every argument needs winning. And, most importantly,  not every person deserves access to your energy.

There are times when explaining yourself will lead to another explanation, followed by another argument, followed by yet another attempt to prove that you are right. And suddenly, an hour of your life has disappeared.

Sometimes you have to ask yourself:

Is this actually worth my peace?

Mostly the answer is no, and you are allowed to walk away.

8. When someone is speaking from pain

I think this might be the hardest one. When someone I care about is hurting, my instinct is often to fix it. I want to give advice. I want to reassure them that everything will be OK.

But sometimes that isn’t what they need.

Sometimes they don’t want a solution. They want someone to listen, someone to sit beside them and acknowledge that what they’re feeling matters. I’ve learned that you don’t always need the right words.

You don’t have to fix everything.

9. When your ego wants the final word

Uh-oh! This is another one I’m working on! There is something incredibly satisfying about getting the last word in.

You think of the perfect response five minutes after the argument. Then you replay the conversation in your head and imagine how brilliant you would have sounded.

But what are you actually trying to win? Because winning an argument and winning a relationship are two very different things.

Sometimes having the last word feels good for about thirty seconds. Then you’re left with the consequences.

I’m learning that sometimes the strongest response is:

“OK.”

And walking away.

10. When nothing kind, true or helpful can be said

Perhaps this is the simplest rule of all. Before speaking, ask yourself:

Will what I’m about to say make this moment better? If the answer is no, perhaps silence is the better choice.

And that brings me back to where I started.

I’m someone who talks too much when I’m nervous. I’m not naturally a person who finds silence easy. But I’ve come to understand that silence isn’t about having nothing to say.

Quite the opposite.

Sometimes it means you have plenty to say, but you’ve decided that saying it isn’t the right thing to do.

So, the next time you feel that familiar urge to respond immediately, perhaps stop for a moment. Ask yourself which of these ten situations you’re in.

Because the silence you choose today might be the wisdom someone remembers tomorrow.

Until next time xxxxxxx

Beyond Our Comfort Zone: Hiking in Gran Canaria

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Jamie and I love to hike. We’d hiked in Andalucía, and we both agreed it had been the best holiday we’d ever taken.

That made us slightly nervous about booking another walking holiday. What if it wasn’t as good?

So, was it? Read on, and I’ll reveal all.

An early flight meant a 3.30 am alarm on day one. This was followed by an email cancelling our taxi transfer from Gran Canaria Airport to our first destination. We should probably have booked the transfer through Inntravel, our holiday agent, but we’d used this company many times before and assumed it would be fine.

Fortunately, we didn’t panic. We were confident we’d find a taxi at the airport—and we did. Our driver was a lovely chap who had lived in Gran Canaria all his life but had never driven to our hotel.

Alarm bells?

We hadn’t paid much attention to how many metres above sea level Cruz de Tejeda was. After all, everything looks flat on a map! 😊

To put it into perspective, Scafell Pike, England’s highest mountain, stands at 970 metres. Our destination was 1,510 metres above sea level.

Our taxi wasn’t the most powerful, and our driver followed his SatNav, which, in my experience, always chooses the shortest and most traumatic route possible. He was ecstatic when we finally reached the top of the mountain pass—and so were we!

We later discovered that the transfer arranged by Inntravel was run by someone who lived in the mountains and knew the roads well… including the best route. Lesson learned.

But the journey was soon forgotten.

On arrival, I was stunned by the magnificent views and completely in awe of this unexpected landscape. Sitting on our balcony with the mountains stretching out before us, their imposing height and rugged terrain were simply magical. Below was a patchwork of trees, shrubs and grassland, framed by endless blue skies—the most idyllic real-life picture I had ever seen, and impossible to capture properly on camera.

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I couldn’t wait for our first sunset and the three days of walking ahead.

After one of the best breakfasts we’d ever had, the walks certainly didn’t disappoint. We hiked through an extraordinary landscape, with sweeping views across the cliffs and ravines of the vast volcanic basin surrounding Tejeda.

We chose a holiday with Grade 2–3 walks because we enjoy a challenge, though there are plenty of more leisurely trails for those who prefer a gentler pace. We crossed paths through the spectacular mountains, enjoyed the hotel’s wonderful spa and ended each day watching the sky burst into shades of red and yellow before the stars stole the evening show.

After four nights in this paradise, transfer day arrived—and it was hammering down!

The mountains had disappeared, replaced by low cloud and mist. We debated whether to set off, but with a long walk ahead and thunderstorms forecast for later in the day, we knew we needed to get going.

Luckily, we didn’t get too wet and arrived at our next destination just as the first clap of thunder echoed in the distance.

If you want to disconnect from everybody and everything, this next location is just for you. It was the perfect place to escape and enjoy nature. A family-run business, it was run by a lovely lady named Fatima, who looked after every detail.

Unfortunately for us, Gran Canaria decided to experience one of its worst storms during our one-night stay, bringing extreme cold with it! A small electric heater in our cabin and two extra blankets helped, but with thunder clapping overhead, a frightened dog barking nearby, and church bells chiming on the hour, every hour, it was certainly an interesting night.

Thankfully, a superb breakfast awaited us the following morning, along with a hearty picnic for our onward hike to our final destination.

There was plenty of elevation gain—and descent—during our seven days of walking, and the route to Agaete, our final destination, was no exception. It was tough, and our knees were beginning to feel the effects of the 1,000-metre descent through the Barranco.

We were exhausted when we arrived at our Finca, but another warm welcome in an idyllic setting soon made us forget our weary legs.

This beautiful colonial mansion dated back to 1895, surrounded by abundant orchards of oranges and lemons. Set deep within a valley, craggy mountain peaks loomed above us, creating a dramatic backdrop as we enjoyed breakfast in the courtyard.

The final two days took us to the highest peaks and our most challenging walks of the holiday. A hair-raising descent down a steep mountainside, with ravines and abrupt cliffs below, eventually opened up to spectacular coastal views.

In some ways, it reminded us of England’s beautiful Cornish coastline—our home—but this was Cornwall on a rather more dramatic scale!

Our final two evenings were spent in Puerto de Las Nieves, where the restaurants were filled predominantly with Gran Canaria locals who clearly knew where to go for a good seafood meal. Watching the sun sink into the sea where the mountains met the coast, feeling proud that we’d pushed ourselves beyond our limits, and enjoying freshly prepared paella made for the perfect end to another fabulous holiday.

So, was it as good as Andalucía?

Honestly, it was different—but every bit as memorable.

Gran Canaria challenged us, surprised us, and took us far beyond anything we expected from an island many people associate purely with beaches and sunshine. We had climbed mountains, descended ravines, survived storms and discovered landscapes so beautiful they barely seemed real.

And perhaps that’s the beauty of stepping outside your comfort zone. You never quite know what you’ll find.

Life definitely begins outside of your comfort zone.

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Newquay to Perranporth South West Coastal Path

Today I’m taking you on a walk close to my home in St Agnes: the stretch of the South West Coast Path from Newquay to Perranporth.

Jamie and I often choose this route in winter because, unlike some other sections, it doesn’t turn into a full-blown mud-based endurance event. But today the sun is shining, the air feels positively late-August warm, and the coast is looking very pleased with itself.

Compared with some of my recent walks, this section is reasonably kind, or so it seems!

If you follow my hikes, you may remember Perranporth to Portreath threw steep switchback cliffs at me. Perranporth to Portreath – South West Coast Path.

St Ives to Pendeen (taking in Zennor) tested both my legs and my questionable decision to wear sandals on a boulder-scrambling section. St Ives to Pendeen – South West Coast Path.

And Bude to Crackington Haven was so tough that I became convinced someone had secretly moved Crackington Haven six miles farther down the coast. Bude to Crackington Haven – South West Coast Path

Today, we have just over 11 miles ahead of us and around 1,000 feet of elevation gain — gentle by South West Coast Path standards.

There’s no real cliff scrambling, but don’t be fooled by those numbers. The soft sand through the dunes on parts of this walk will work your legs considerably harder than the elevation profile suggests, especially if you go wrong!

And then there’s the River Gannel.

That’s our first challenge, and thankfully, it’s a logistics challenge rather than a fitness one.

Newquay to the River Gannel

Setting off from Newquay Harbour, We’d already checked the tide times for the River Gannel. There’s a very good reason for that, as you discover.

We passed Towan Head and headed towards Fistral Beach, one of Cornwall’s most famous surfing beaches and a regular host to major competitions.

According to my surfing friends, Fistral tends to deliver more consistent waves and is better suited to more experienced surfers than its neighbour, Watergate Bay. Watergate, by comparison, is generally more beginner-friendly and has a lively surf-school scene.

Surfing looks so appealing. These days, though, I’m increasingly selective about sports that involve falling off things!

Quite quickly we reached the trickiest part of the day: the tide-dependent River Gannel. The Gannel is a tidal estuary between Newquay and Crantock, and the timing of your crossing can make or break this walk.

At low tide and either side of it, you can cross on foot. During the summer season, the small Fern Pit ferry also operates from the Fern Pit Café when conditions and timings allow.

Luckily, today we were still in season and everything worked in our favour.

Outside the summer months, though, the tide becomes much more important. If the water is in and the ferry isn’t running, you can’t simply shrug your shoulders and carry on. You have to head inland and cross farther upstream, adding roughly three miles to the walk via Trevemper.

So the practical takeaway is simple: check the tide times before you set off. Get the Gannel right, and it’s a straightforward part of the walk.

Get it wrong, and your gentle coastal stroll suddenly comes with an unwanted three-mile detour.

Crantock and West Pentire

After successfully negotiating the Gannel, we reached one of my favourite parts of the walk, especially if you like seal spotting.  I don’t think I have ever walked this section without seeing a seal bobbing up and down in the water.

If you fancy a little detour, Crantock is a lovely village with a small shop for refreshments and a couple of pubs. Today, though, we pressed on towards Crantock Sands before rounding West Pentire.

In spring, this whole area is spectacular.

The paths burst into colour, and the wildflowers are in abundance. Today, after a summer doing its best impression of 1976, even the grass looked as though it had given up and gone home.

We passed West Pentire the views back across Crantock Beach were spectacular. And not to keep going on about spring, but this area puts on an outrageous show of poppies.

On a clear spring evening, you can catch the ultimate photograph: the sun sinking into the sea, the water glowing orange and thousands of red poppies spilling down the fields towards the coast. It’s as though nature has gone full Instagram influencer.

Today, though, all that’s left is dry grassland that looks pretty unimpressed with August. It might not be the most photogenic scene, so I’ve included some photos of what you might enjoy seeing if you visit in Spring instead! A steep descent brings you to Porth Joke, not my favourite beach, and then back up to the stunning cliffs.

Holywell Bay

Around the eight-mile mark, we reached Holywell Bay and one of our favourite winter parking spots.

We often start here for a circular walk along the cliffs and back around The Kelseys. Like Crantock, the car park is National Trust, and the dunes make a lovely place to stop, particularly when you find a sheltered spot.

Today, we found ourselves at the heart of the national surf lifesaving championships. The beach was alive with energy, creating a vibrant and captivating spectacle.

As we continued, we passed the old military buildings at Penhale Camp, an area rich with a sobering wartime history. During the Second World War, the camp served as a military training site. In 1941, a German aircraft bombed it, killing 22 soldiers who had survived Dunkirk. These stories are difficult to think about. We walk through these stunning landscapes, enjoying the views and sunshine, while many carry memories of those who lost their lives here.

More recently, Penhale gained a different kind of fame as a filming location for the excellent series Down Cemetery Road, starring Emma Thompson and Ruth Wilson. If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend watching it; it’s likely available on Apple TV+.

At Ligger Point, Perranporth came into view, and today we got lucky. But why? If the tide is out, you can take the easier route along the beach, but make sure you know the tide times and that it isn’t coming in, or you’ll risk being stranded.

The path above the beach, through the stunning sand dunes, features soft sand that can turn a simple walk into a challenging workout. Jamie and I have worked out our preferred route over the years, but I’m sure you’ll find your own way.

It is something of a maze, though.

Pick the easier line, and it’s not too bad.

Miss it, and your calves will remember this section for several days.

At the end of this walk, you can reward yourself. Perranporth is home to the Watering Hole, famously located directly on the beach, the perfect place for a post-walk drink and something to eat if your legs are still speaking to you. It’s also an Instagram favourite at sunset; it’s spectacular, especially when the tide is out, and the sunset reflects on the wet sand and water.

Today we chose tea and cake at the Alcatraz Bar and Cafe, also on the beach. Its balcony is an excellent place to people-watch!

There’s also a regular bus service that can get you back towards Newquay, making this a particularly useful section if you’re walking the Coast Path in stages.

I hope you enjoyed today’s “easy stroll”. The elevation might have been relatively modest, and there was no serious scrambling, but the dunes certainly know how to make themselves memorable.

Today it was sand; next time, I’ll find us something more challenging, but where?

Walking the Cornish Coast Path? See all my walks and my 30-day Bude-to-Plymouth itinerary https://living-with-autoimmune.com/?page_id=3064

Are We Losing The Ability To Cope?

Hello everyone, and welcome to my new blog. We’re going to talk about some serious stuff this week, but hopefully with a sprinkling of humour.

In our modern world, everything seems designed to remove discomfort. We want answers instantly, parcels tomorrow, food delivered to the door and technology that makes life easier.

But somewhere along the way, we’ve started expecting emotional life to come with the same convenience.

Why have an awkward conversation when you can send a message? Why pick up the phone when an email will do? And why struggle to find the right words when AI can write something beautifully articulate, emotionally intelligent and completely devoid of the uncomfortable bit?

The problem is, some things in life are supposed to be uncomfortable

When I look back over the moments that shaped my life, every one of them began with discomfort. Let me share some examples, and you can decide for yourself: are we becoming a society that’s increasingly uncomfortable with discomfort, and is it costing us opportunities to grow?

Most readers will know I worked in the City of London from the late 80s through to 2021. It was a time when technology was constantly changing, and every promotion meant stepping into a role where you didn’t yet have all the answers.

Difficult conversations were a big part of my job. Restructuring often led to redundancies, and making decisions with incomplete information was a daily occurrence. 

In today’s world, the human touch is disappearing. AI drafts the message when we should be having a face-to-face conversation. Messaging apps mean we avoid picking up the phone. And finding an answer to almost any question now takes minutes, so making decisions with incomplete information feels like a thing of the past. 

Imagine standing before a company board to defend decisions you’d made and explain missed sales targets — without asking AI to hand you the perfect answer before you walked into the room. That was simply how it was done.

My experience taught me that confidence isn’t the absence of fear; it’s acting despite it. And I think we’re in danger of losing that confidence and costing ourselves opportunities to grow along with it. Because when AI eases difficult decision-making, it also removes the hard experiences that build expertise, judgement, and, more importantly, resilience. 

My concern isn’t that younger generations are inherently less resilient. It’s that they may have fewer opportunities to develop resilience in the way previous generations did

In my view, there are four growth opportunities we’re at risk of losing.

First, the early struggles that build resilience. When I started my career, career ladders relied on juniors doing the grunt work. For me, that was an important learning curve; skill-building through the struggle of adapting to a working environment. 

AI now handles the bulk of that early-career work, and we’re skipping the first phase that helps people start building resilience.

Second, independent judgement and critical thinking. I often had to work with ambiguous data and incomplete information. As a sales director, when my company was being acquired by a large corporate, I found myself heavily involved in their due diligence process. If I’d failed to convince them our sales department was top-notch, the deal would have fallen through, leaving a lot of disappointed shareholders. 

How much easier would that be today? AI could hand you the perfect presentation with perfect answers to every question. But imagine how much less thinking that would have required of me, and how much less I would have grown because of it.

Third, the ability to learn from consequence. Difficult decisions produce visible consequences. Wrong hires, poorly drafted contracts, flawed reviews. I could go on. AI has smoothed over so much of this process that I wonder how we can still learn from our mistakes?

Fourth, the graft of teaching yourself something new. When I first arrived in the City, I had to learn about the financial markets quickly. I read books every spare minute, attended challenging training courses, and made sure I learned from my colleagues whenever I had the opportunity. My brain was active and on fire.

Out of curiosity, before writing this blog, I asked AI how it could help me understand the financial markets. It gave me an excellent summary, and I could’ve delved even further, but where would have been the fun in that?

The graft mattered because I had to work things out, make connections, get things wrong and then try again. And because I had put the effort in myself, I understood it differently, and I remembered more. I developed the mental stamina to tackle something I didn’t understand and keep going until I did.

AI has the potential to be an amazing teacher, but it’s important to find the right balance. There’s a fine line between using it as a helpful tool to support your thinking and relying on it so much that you stop thinking for yourself. In my view, that’s the part we should be mindful of. The kind of growth that might be at risk isn’t just about faster results or more productivity. It’s about losing the chance to develop deep expertise, good judgment, and true resilience over time.

I’m not suggesting we make life harder than it needs to be. Innovation is wonderful, and AI will undoubtedly make many aspects of our lives better. But perhaps we should be careful not to remove every challenge simply because we can.

Growth has always lived just beyond our comfort zone.

Every meaningful chapter of my life, from leading technology teams to living with ankylosing spondylitis to walking the Cornish Coast Path, began with uncertainty, effort or discomfort.

None of those experiences would have been easier if someone had simply handed me the answer. And perhaps that is the point.

AI risks making us less resilient not because it is bad for us, but because it is so good at making difficult things easier. It can remove the very experiences that used to force us to get stronger, think harder and learn how to cope when things don’t go to plan.

So if I can leave you with one tip, perhaps it is this:

Do the hard thing yourself first.

Write the difficult email. Have the awkward conversation. Sit with uncertainty for a while before asking AI to resolve it. Try to work something out before asking it to give you the answer.

Because sometimes the struggle is the learning.

Your friends, your family and your colleagues may thank you for holding on to some of those uncomfortable human things, but more importantly, you may thank yourself when life inevitably throws something at you that AI can’t fix.

And that leaves me with one final question.

If resilience requires time, patience, mistakes and a little bit of struggle, will life give us the time to develop it?

And perhaps more importantly…

Will employers?

St Ives to Pendeen – South West Coast Path

The Toughest Walk on the South West Coast Path?

Join me for another adventure on the Cornish coast.

It’s July, the sun is relentless, and we’re enjoying Britain’s hottest summer since 1976. If you’re too young to remember it, the legendary Summer of ’76 brought melting roads, swarms of ladybirds, vinyl car seats hot enough to brand your legs, and endless days fuelled by lukewarm hosepipe water and coconut-scented sun oil. There was no air conditioning, no Factor 50, and by August most of us resembled peeling reptiles covered in Calamine lotion. Somehow, we survived.

Today’s challenge is one of the toughest sections of the South West Coast Path, a route many walkers consider the hardest on the entire trail. So lace up your boots and let’s get started.

We arrived in St Ives early because, in summer, you really have no choice. By mid-morning the town is wonderfully vibrant but gloriously chaotic, which is exactly why I usually avoid it during July and August. Today, though, exceptions had to be made.

The walk to Pendeen is around 14 miles, taking roughly seven hours with plenty of stops for photos, snacks and those essential “whose idea was this?” moments. There’s around 650 metres of ascent and 550 metres of descent. Not one huge climb, but a relentless succession of steep ups and downs that quietly destroy your legs. Think of it as an excellent workout for your glutes and quads. They’ll remind you tomorrow.

A word of warning before you set off: once you’re beyond Zennor there’s no easy escape route. No road runs close to the coast, so this is a walk that demands commitment and a careful weather check. The reward is some of Cornwall’s wildest scenery, with dramatic granite cliffs, hidden coves, and long stretches where you may barely see another walker.

My rucksack already felt ridiculously heavy. I’d packed one and a half litres of water and enough snacks to justify burning the 2,000 calories I was about to consume.

The path leaves St Ives gently enough, winding around Clodgy Point before heading towards Rosewall Hill. It gradually becomes narrower and rockier as it threads through gorse and granite outcrops above the Atlantic. Normally the sea crashes dramatically below, but today it looked as though the waves had taken the day off, just like half the country who seemed to have descended on Cornwall.

About an hour before Zennor we reached the section I’d been dreading.

Jamie and I had walked it before, so we knew exactly what lay ahead. Despite that, I made the spectacularly bad decision to wear walking sandals.

The route suddenly plunges into enormous boulder fields, the most notorious obstacle on this stretch. In dry weather it’s an awkward scramble. In the wet it becomes genuinely hazardous, with every granite block polished like ice. This is where many of the Coast Path’s accidents happen, so take your time and think carefully about every step.

We’ve seen walkers completely overwhelmed here. On one occasion we found ourselves pressed against the cliff while a rescue helicopter winched out a walker who’d broken their leg.

And yes… I know what you’re thinking.

Why on earth was I wearing sandals?

Fair question.

By the time we reached Zennor we were ready for a break. This tiny granite village is home to the 13th-century Tinners Arms and the beautiful church famous for its carved Mermaid Chair. It’s also the last guaranteed place for food and drink before Pendeen, so if you’ve travelled light, it’s well worth the short one-mile detour (.5 mile each way).

Don’t miss Zennor Head while you’re here. In my opinion, it’s one of the most beautiful viewpoints in Cornwall. I’ve photographed it countless times and somehow still can’t resist taking just one more.

Leaving Zennor, I was painfully aware there were still around eight miles to go, and my glutes had officially declared industrial action.

This is the most remote part of the walk. The path constantly climbs and drops over a seemingly endless succession of headlands. Gurnard’s Head. Bosigra and Morvah each reward you with another descent followed immediately by another climb.  

Gurnard’s Head is one of my favourite places on the entire coast. This is one of the only places you can leave the walk and head up the fields to the Gurnard’s Head Inn (approx. 35 mins). The dramatic headland is crowned by the remains of an Iron Age cliff castle, while the towering granite cliffs around Bosigran are famous with rock climbers. Looking down from the path, we could see climbers inching their way up the rock faces far below.

Just before you reach Pendeen Watch Lighthouse, Portheras Cove is the largest sandy beach on this stretch. It’s not lifeguarded, and there are strong currents. Today was calm, so we stopped, making it the perfect place for a well-earned break. We’d packed our swimming gear, and after nearly seven hours in the July sunshine, even the famously chilly Cornish sea felt wonderfully refreshing.

If you’re walking this section in summer, don’t underestimate the heat. Take plenty of water, wear a hat and keep the suncream topped up. There is very little shade.

The final miles lead you past Pendeen Watch, the active lighthouse standing proudly on the cliffs, before the path turns inland for the last gentle mile into Pendeen village.

It’s an unforgettable walk and one of the finest days out on the Cornish coast. We rarely tackle the whole route these days, but if you’d like to experience its spectacular scenery without committing to 14 demanding miles, park in Zennor’s public car park (still one of Cornwall’s bargains at around £2). Walk towards either St Ives or Pendeen for as little or as long as you like, then reward yourself with a well-earned pint at the Tinners Arms.

Just remember that this coastline is completely exposed to Atlantic weather. Check the forecast before setting off and don’t be afraid to turn back if conditions deteriorate.

Sometimes the best adventures are the ones you finish wanting never to do again… until next summer. xxxxx

Walking the Cornish Coast Path? See all my walks and my 30-day Bude-to-Plymouth itinerary https://living-with-autoimmune.com/?page_id=3064

10 Habits That Keep Us Fit and Healthy Over 50

A little while ago, I wrote a blog called The Only Three Skincare Products You’ll Ever Need. It has had my highest viewing figures ever—more than 12,000 so far. The Only Three Skincare Products You’ll Ever Need

Another question I’m asked regularly is, “How do you keep fit?” So, I thought I’d share my own personal story.

Most of my readers know that I spent many years working in the City of London. My day started with the 7:09 commuter train into Waterloo, then on to Bank. On a good day, I’d catch the 6:26 train home and arrive around 7:15 pm. Often it was much later. Convenience food, takeaways, restaurant meals and alcohol became my go-to choices.

Then, when I was 45, I caught sight of my reflection in a train window after a night out. I barely recognised myself. The very next day, I decided it was time to make a change. Five years later, I was diagnosed with the autoimmune disease Ankylosing Spondylitis. Surprisingly, that diagnosis pushed me to take my health even more seriously, and my lifestyle improved further.

For me, being fit and healthy isn’t about having the perfect body. It’s about feeling strong, having energy, looking healthy, and enjoying life. Glowing skin, shiny hair and a sense of wellbeing are simply welcome bonuses.

So, here are the 10 habits that have worked for me. I hope they might help you too.

1. Exercise

When I was working full time, I set my alarm 45 minutes earlier every morning so I could go for a run before work. In the evenings, I swapped the Tube for a walk back to the station whenever I could.

Now that I’m semi-retired, my routine has changed, but exercise is still a daily habit. I hike regularly, lift weights twice or three times a week, practise yoga at least twice a week, and do cardio on the remaining days.

2. Diet

People often assume I must eat very little to maintain my weight. In reality, I probably eat more than many people reading this.

Breakfast is usually fruit, yoghurt and muesli or porridge. Lunch is something light, often eggs. Dinner is cooked from fresh ingredients every evening. If I’m eating out, I’ll usually choose fish or, more often these days, a vegetarian option. I rarely order dessert, and my favourite snacks are apples and walnuts.

3. Alcohol

This has probably made one of the biggest differences to my health.

I used to drink far too much. Looking back, I’m amazed my liver forgave me! These days, unless I’m on holiday, I rarely drink more than once a week. I sleep better, feel more energetic and generally enjoy life more because of it.

4. Skincare

My skincare routine is surprisingly simple. I alternate between retinol, vitamin A and hyaluronic acid in the evenings. Expensive products aren’t always better—consistency is what matters.

5. Sun Care

If there’s one product I never leave the house without, it’s sunscreen. I use SPF 50 whenever I’m out in the sun and even apply it to my face during the winter months. Protecting your skin today is one of the best investments you can make for the future.

6. Sleep

I know not everyone finds sleep easy, especially during and after the menopause.

Fortunately, I sleep quite well, but I still have to work at it. I aim for around seven hours each night, avoid my phone before bed, and read instead. It helps me unwind and fall asleep much more easily.

7. Mindset

For me, staying healthy has never been about perfection—it’s about consistency.

When I first started getting fit, I rarely weighed myself because I didn’t want the scales to discourage me. Progress takes time. Even now, I only step on the scales after returning from holiday… mainly to assess the damage! 😊

8. Stress Management

I’ve written several blogs about managing stress because I genuinely believe it’s one of the foundations of good health.

For me, walking, reading, hobbies and spending time outdoors make the biggest difference. If I had to choose just one, it would be getting outside. Fresh air and natural daylight do wonders for both your physical and mental wellbeing.

9. Hydration

I try to drink at least two litres of water every day. In the morning, I have kefir, and in the evening I often enjoy a glass of kombucha. Staying hydrated is such a simple habit, yet it’s amazing how much better you feel when you do it consistently.

10. Have a Purpose and Stay Active

This is perhaps the most important habit of all.

The happiest and healthiest people I know have a reason to get out of bed each morning. It doesn’t have to be a career. It could be volunteering, learning something new, travelling, gardening, spending time with family, or pursuing a hobby you love.

Having purpose keeps both your mind and body active. If you’re struggling to find yours, I’ve written another blog on exactly that subject, and I hope you’ll find it helpful. Feeling Directionless? These 3 Questions Will Tell You If You Need a Life Purpose (And How to Find One)

Final Thoughts

None of this is revolutionary. There are no miracle products, secret diets or magic shortcuts.

The truth is that good health is built on small, consistent habits repeated over many years.

You don’t have to change everything overnight. Start with one habit. Then another. Before long, those small changes can transform not only your health, but the way you feel about yourself.

After all, getting older is inevitable. Feeling your best is something we can all work towards.

Until next time xxxxxx

6 Simple Sentences That Changed the Way I See Life

Hello and welcome to my blog.

Sometimes, a sentence really catches my attention. It’s not necessarily because it’s clever or deep, but because it resonates with something I’ve been learning the hard way over the years.

I’ve collected a handful of these over my life— small lightbulb moments that arrived at exactly the right time: in the middle of a crisis, after a difficult conversation, or lying awake at 2 am turning a problem over in my head.

These six have had a bigger impact on me than any book, course, or motivational speech ever could. I’m sharing them with the hope that one will resonate with you when you need it most.

1. We don’t have to control everything – control how you respond.

Feeling in control has always mattered to me. I used to believe that if I planned thoroughly enough, worked hard enough, and anticipated every possible outcome, I could eliminate stress. Life, it turns out, doesn’t take requests.

Years ago, I had a crucial meeting in Frankfurt. I was booked on the 6:20 a.m. flight from Gatwick, and a colleague was due to meet me at Frankfurt airport so we could drive straight to the client together. I’d spent days preparing, and I was determined to make everything go smoothly. Driving towards Gatwick at 3.30 am, I found the M3 closed.

This was before sat navs could quietly reroute you around problems. I sat there watching the clock, knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do, and the anxiety was making me feel physically ill. You’ll be pleased to know the meeting was rearranged and everything worked out.

But I learned something that morning that has stayed with me ever since: when things go wrong, the only useful question is, What’s the best response available to me right now?

It doesn’t remove the problem. It simply refocuses your attention on the one thing you actually control.

2. Peace is more valuable than proving a point.

I’ve never enjoyed confrontation, although senior roles in the City made it unavoidable.

What affected me most wasn’t the disagreement itself. It was what happened afterwards. I’d replay conversations in my head for hours, rehearsing all the ways I was right and the other person was wrong.

The strange thing is that being right rarely brought me any peace.

For a long time, I felt compelled to defend every position and correct every misunderstanding. Eventually, I realised that not every disagreement deserves my energy. I’ve also learned to accept that if other people have a different opinion from me, I can learn from them, understand why they think that way and, if in the end I still hold the same opinion, it’s OK to agree to disagree.

Some battles are worth fighting. Most aren’t.

3. Our future is shaped by what we do, not by what we say we’ll do.

The best advice I ever received came at the start of my career from someone who later became a close friend:

Do what you said you were going to do, and you’ll always succeed.

I’ve found that to be true because so many people don’t. How many times have you heard, “I’ll call you back” — and then never heard from them again?

Good intentions don’t create results. Action does.

The biggest changes in my life and my career never came from grand declarations or ambitious New Year’s resolutions. They came from doing what I said I would do — small, unremarkable actions, repeated long after the initial motivation had faded.

4. Not everyone deserves access to our energy.

Energy is a limited resource.

I learned that lesson during one of the hardest periods of my work life, when I stepped into a major new role. Like a lot of people who wrestle with self-doubt, I was already wondering whether I was really up to it. One person on my team didn’t make that any easier.

He was talented, respected, and very clear that he believed the role should have been his. From the very beginning, he let me feel it. Every conversation with him left me drained and doubting my ability.

In the end, I let him go, and it was one of the best decisions I ever made.

The issue wasn’t just how he affected me. His negativity was weighing on the entire team’s spirit. Once he was gone, the atmosphere changed, and as a team, we achieved great success together.

Since then, I’ve become much more intentional about where I invest my attention.

That’s not selfish. It’s simply a reminder that if you spend your energy on everything and everyone, you’ll have too little left for the things that matter most. 

5. Success starts when excuses stop.

This isn’t always a comfortable one. It’s easy to point at circumstances, bad luck, poor timing, or factors outside our control. I’ve done it myself.

But the periods of greatest growth and change in my life began when I stopped asking, Why is this happening to me? And started asking, What can I do next?

When COVID hit, it destroyed a business we’d built from nothing, one that funded our entire lifestyle.

For a while, I kept asking the first question.

Nothing changed.

Only when we focused on the second did things begin to improve.

6. Healing begins the moment we stop blaming.

Blame can feel justified. For years, I blamed parts of my childhood for the opportunities I’d missed and the qualifications I never pursued. There’s truth in the idea that our early years shape us. But shaping isn’t the same as sentencing.

The moment I stopped focusing on the reasons I’d fallen behind and started focusing on where I wanted to go, things began to change.

That shift in responsibility didn’t erase the past.

It gave me a future.

Final Thoughts

We often spend years searching for life-changing advice, but sometimes all we really need is a gentle reminder just when we need it most. These six sentences haven’t magically made life simpler, life remains unpredictable, messy, and at times, truly tough. 

But what they’ve offered me is something even more valuable: a better way to navigate through it all. And honestly, most days, that’s all we need to get by. Remember, a single sentence can really shift the way you think, and that shift in perspective can, in turn, change the entire course of your life.

Until next time xxxx