Like nearly 50,000 Brits this year, I took the massive leap and applied for my first Working Holiday visa to Australia. It seemed like the cliché thing to do at nearly 23 years old with no interest in getting a corporate job. Back home I felt suffocated by the perpetual feeling that nothing was ever going to happen to me. I felt agitated all the time and was craving a new adventure. I had this overwhelming urge to create a new kind of chaos in my own life that I no longer see

I have come to Crosby beach to clear my head. I’m sat here now and I’m so glad I that I came; the sun has come out just for me and it’s so peaceful here I could cry. It’s such a change from the regular, busy, grimey, central Liverpool. There’s a Chinese woman running across the sand filming herself and it’s wholesome to watch. I want to join her. A six-year old black lab named Skye climbs onto my lap and tries to eat my sandwich much to the embarrassment of the owner. A coupl

Dean village, Edinburgh. It’s not far off something you’d see in a children’s storybook specifically written by Hans Christian Anderson....