Changing sheets; changing lives
I cleaned, scrubbed, took a thousand photos, cleaned again and then waited for my first guest to arrive. The pandemic had previously put paid to my foray into Airbnb, but now was the time. I didn’t know what to expect other than my patience might be tested sharing a bathroom, but I was ready and after all something needed to prop up my catalogue of new-found hobbies all of which required equipment, accessories, or entry fees.
What I didn’t expect was to meet such interesting travellers. And brave people too.
Amir was from northern rural India and had upped sticks for a 3-year contract at a science laboratory in Berkshire. He had left behind his wife and 9-month-old baby and had landed in the UK just a few hours before arriving at my ‘Room in a Quaint Victorian Cottage’ with a surprisingly small bag and an even smaller understanding of life here or the cost of living. He did his best to persuade me to keep him on after the month that he had originally booked had come to an end, but by then I had a list of bookings all wanting their share of said quaint Victorian cottage. I will remember his endless Facetime calls home whilst making toast in the frying pan with fondness.
Sally was German and arrived with her walking boots and a pair of trekking poles poking out of the top of her rucksack. This seemed a little unlikely for the local terrain but it transpired that I was just a stopgap before she embarked on hiking the Southwest coastal path, which she knew less about than Amir had known about kitchen appliances. In her rather broken English she told me that she was celebrating her 50th year, had left her husband at home and flown to the UK for an undetermined number of months to have a brand-new adventure. She wasn’t sure what the walking poles were for, but Google had strongly recommended their use.
I directed her to the relevant website and passed on some contact details for my Cornish pals in the hope that she could put together some kind of itinerary and reminded myself that I was a Host and not her mother. Besides, she was older than me and surely should have known better? (At the time I recall thinking that the whole episode was mis-judged at best and pure madness at worst, but we kept in touch and she is still walking and having the time of her life).
A string of travellers ensued. Triathletes, musicians, journalists, actors, tourists and pâtissiers (that’s a completely different story) to name but a few. Then there was Rita.
She had flown into Luton from Scotland and needed a place to stay before flying out of Heathrow to Argentina. Her mother who had moved there years ago was ill. Very ill. Rita was going over there to care for her in her final months, or weeks, no one really knew. I felt for her. Not only because no one should have to endure such a miserable place as Luton airport alone, but because she was an only child and just getting the paperwork sorted out for this trip sounded like a matrix of red tape and endless fiasco. And that was before she even boarded the plane. She had handed in her notice at the hospital where she worked as a patient liaison officer and was literally embarking on a new chapter.
Change. We all experience it every moment of every day. Constant flux. A flow that could pass you by if you let it. But these people I found inspiring. When is there a “right time” to make these big moves? When will we ever feel ready, brave, or prepared enough? When the bank balance tips a certain way? When we have our own health scare or lose a loved one?
I am reminded of my own life and the changes that I have made which enable me to be sitting down on a Sunday scribbling away now, without so much as a sniff of Monday Morning Work Dread. Leaving the solicitors, going it alone to teach what I love: mindfulness and meditation. Wondering if I’d have to go back cap in hand; if I would ever be able to re-mortgage my house; go on holiday again or have a wellbeing client base that would enable me to carve out a living.
I am often asked about this, usually by someone who looks incredulous that I would have the nerve to leave a twenty-year legal career on what could be perceived to be a whim.
Well, there was no whim. There was no need to be brave. Alright, maybe a little bit brave. I was guided and coached through the whole process, all of which took place over months. There was nothing spontaneous about it and by the end of the meetings that I had with my coach I felt confident, inspired, and ready to make what was a well thought through and logical decision. Even my sensible doting dad was happy about it!
Are you ready to make a change? And what might that be?
Career coach: Alyson Ainsworth
Business: thriving
Mortgage: secured
Super Host status: pending