Humble Beginnings

I have deliberated for a long time on when to write this blog, what to write in it, and indeed whether to write it at all. Someone call Fleet Street, I found a sixth Journalism W. But now that I have taken the plunge, one further question remains: how should I write it?

Convention and chronology dictate that I begin at the beginning, with those hostels I first visited with family when I was knee high to a grasshopper. However, this approach leaves me with little to talk about beyond the fact that I recall having been there. Rather than present an incredibly dry list of hostels about which I remember very little, surely it would be more appropriate to start with some sort of showstopper: a journey that I not only remember, but recall fondly?

And so I shall, because this is my blog and no-one is around to stop me.

In the next post, I will start things off with a bang and talk about the sometimes harrowing, sometimes wholesome adventure I had in April 2024 walking from hostel to hostel in the Lake District. In fact, find the start of that journey here! Now that's showbiz.

Easedale Tarn, as viewed from Tarn Crag