Beautiful places. Unexpected joys

Because life doesn’t pause, even after witnessing so much heartache

Coming back from Ukraine always feels like crossing an invisible line—one side marked by sirens and shattered lives, the other by sunlight and safety. The guilt is sharp and doesn’t disappear—it lingers, quietly—but so does the reality of life.

So I go back to sharing stories from recent travels, the light-hearted moments, the beautiful places, the unexpected joys—because life doesn’t pause. We go on. And I go on, carrying both the weight of what I’ve seen and the privilege of returning to a world where there is laughter, adventure, and peace.

Me and my boys, Amory and Conrad, in Ukraine, with Vitaly our GEM team leader and Igor, our invaluable driver.

These past few weeks after being away with Global Empowerment Mission, I went on to explore a new country, revisit an old favorite, and finally discovered the mystery behind my rash that had insisted on keeping me company along the way.

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David and I were guests of Montenegrin friends. Always exciting to visit a new country, especially when it is as layered and dramatic as Montenegro. A place where time feels paused in the stone alleys of Kotor’s old town, where church bells echo through the narrow lanes and ancient walls hold stories.

By boat we passed the legendary Tre Sorelle House in Prčanj, where legend tells of three sisters who fell in love with the same sailor. Rather than compete for his heart, they made a vow to wait for his return—and waited they did, for the rest of their lives, watching the sea from the same windows, never marrying, and eventually sealing the shutters after the last sister died.

We had dinner in a quiet monastery nearby, explored a priest’s study lined with books from centuries past, and had breakfast in an old villa in Kotor, where Venetian shutters lean into winding stone alleyways. We were treated to a traditional Montenegrin breakfast, a hearty, rustic affair—more feast than meal—which begins with a small glass of grappa to warm the soul and kickstart the day.

We stayed on Mamula Island, once a 19th-century Austro-Hungarian fortress turned prison, now reimagined with extraordinary sensitivity as a hotel. The echoes of history still linger in the thick walls, surrounded by the endless blue of the Adriatic.

Mamula Island, and her 100 year old Banyan tree.

One evening ended with supper in a sleepy fishing village, with salt in the air, grilled fish on the table, and the fading light casting everything in a hush of gold. It felt quiet and rather a luxury to be just the four of us, David, myself and our friends. No children, no children at all!

It was a week of discovery and awe, and I left feeling grateful, and a little bit too sun-kissed, by this beautiful corner of the Balkans.

Athens, on the other hand, was anything but sleepy and my friend Themis’s 50th birthday weekend was anything but quiet. Born and raised in Athens, Themis certainly knew how to impress 200 or so friends who gathered to celebrate with her.

Since leaving the Bahamas I have been trying to ignore a weepy rash that appeared on one side of my face and then trickled down to my arm. I imagined it was just nerves. Heading into Ukraine is never easy. In June alone, 5,500 drones were used. It’s hard to fathom the relentless noise, destruction, and psychological toll these attacks inflict and just thinking about it made me itch more.

Then a strange swelling joined me in Athens. It appeared below my nose, carried on down to my lip and across to my jawline.

On the flight from Athens to London the pressure made it swell more. My ear buzzed, my face throbbed.

I went to see a dermatologist "Have you had any additional stress in your life? Have you been anywhere unusual recently? Have you eaten something out of the ordinary?” She asked.

Poked and prodded by the wrong kind of doctor looking in the wrong places.

"Well, I was quite nervous before heading back to East Ukraine. And l've never been to Montenegro before, and there was that salted-fish-in-oil-thing, washed down with grappa for breakfast" The doctor shook her head and gave me a prescription for antibiotics. Nothing changed. It was only after a little moan on Instagram that a few people there suggested it might be Shingles. I went to see another doctor. Yep. Shingles. Only mild but enough to be uncomfortable. I started taking anti-virals and almost immediately I felt the swelling begin to disappear.

“Very important to reduce stress” everyone said. Well, that’s a little tricky isn’t it? Trying to minimize stress in this crazy stressed world.

And whilst we navigate our own chaos, l can’t forget Ukraine. We owe them our support, in every way we can offer it. For democracy. For freedom. For everything we so easily take for granted.