C'est un journal de voyage
Always have one about your person to avoid those embarrassing silences
It was a dark November night and a long time ago in Manchester, UK when a nervous recently graduated young man strolled into the foyer of Astley House, clutching a manilla folder with a sweaty palm; for a final interview to secure that oh-so important first role in advertising at J Walter Thompson.
Some considerable period later, having successfully navigated many months of coupon clipping, document photocopying and map drawing, deep in the bowels of the 3rd floor media department; Pauline Hackett, my Media Group Head, immediate boss, interviewer and all round super-hero, asked me…
“what was in the envelope that was never opened?”
The answer was not what she expected; what amounted to one of my earliest attempt at a travel journal; being an envelope containing a large collection very poorly taken photographs from a recent family holiday to Yugoslavia (that’s how long ago it was) that were to provide a talking point in case of any embarrassing silence or need for creativity in the interview process.
Of course, they were not needed, by some stroke of fortune I was offered employment without the help of Yugotours or images of my family’s quite frightening 1980’s haircuts.
Employment had been secured; locations had been logged; images had been taken, but not shared - the principle of a travel journal had been established.
Now, it’s almost a given, that the mere presence of similar documentation about my person will constantly provide vital reassurance at important times, the carrying of a travel journal in whatever form, has ultimately become an indispensable asset to me; nestling within my backpack, ready to be deployed in the same way Bob Mortimer would talk of the importance of ‘pocket meat’ located somewhere on his whereabouts, before ever leaving the house.
Perhaps this episode serves to remind all of us in the unconventional flock as to the importance of recording our travels in whatever format we see fit; to enable meaningful reflection at a later date on a journal, some notes or photographs or some sketching; whatever the collection of memories noted down?
It’s not a competition, it’s a record - Barcelona does not trump Blackpool; Moscow ranks with Macclesfield; only you will know their worth; it is the trip, the people and the associated memories that are so important to our mental health; and that is where the travel journal triumphs; by providing the words and visual stimulus to reconnect you to some of your most important moments in multiple locations on this earth.
Thinking about that interview and one of my earliest travel journals therefore spurred me on, decades later, to create a new travel journal and bring together the people, places, images and memories of some (in fact all that I could remember) of the trips I have been on.
Not a small task and not one that is complete (or perhaps ever will be), as scrapbooks, photo albums and memories pre-digital images from pre 2007 spring back to mind…
I know I have a pathological requirement to record, collate, order and re-order events in many areas of my life; travel being just one , often obliterating the actual event itself with a fanatic requirement to record it for posterity rather than enjoy it in the moment it exists.
I don’t need to share, but I do need to record - this is one of my issues as a mentalist; I wonder across the unconventional flock, if it is something you can also relate to?
Being an organic gathering of like minded individuals; how many of us do the same; have you ever thought of making a travel journal?
My emphasis this week is to urge you to join in; if you don’t have one, start a journal, even better, if you do have an old one, dig it out; scrapbooks, albums, maps, notebooks; they all count - we are not precious.
It could be last week’s trip or last year’s, even next years, childhood, family, hen-do or geography field-trip; travel memories should stay with you forever and the journal will be a great way to take you right back there especially at the times when you need a lift and perhaps wish you could be somewhere else.
So put your feet up, it is Friday after all; get yourself a drink and surround yourself with notebooks, albums and images; within minutes you can be transported to just the end of your street or perhaps any corner of the world.
Crazy taxi rides, gala dinners, bumpy landings, electric storms and pain from walking miles in the mountains, the long grass whistling through your fingers, the noises of the city, the smell of the hot tarmac, the taste of that street food; they are all so expectantly waiting within the scribbled pages of that five euro Magritte notebook you bought in Brussels last year.
We don’t need war and peace - we don’t have time for that and most people are not interested anyhow; this is a memory-jogger for you, not a powerpoint to bore others with.
A few notes on each trip; the basic location, country, timing and travel compatriots, a page a year worked for me with a summary of locations per year plus a short look perhaps at ‘most visited’ places or ‘recurring themes’; the plans so often abandoned, the adventures as well as the predictable escapes; they all tell a story.
At the rear, as well as some ideas and learnings for the next trip; a simple table of countries down the side of the page and years across the top with a tick-box for each trip to feed your orderly mind and remind you that a trip to Croatia is now long overdue….
That’s all my Travel Journal is; a step up from the envelope of Yugoslavian images, but no Lonely Planet Compendium to the world; it’s a record of where I have been, and what I did while I was there; and that contributes greatly to who I am.
A small easily portable booklet to remind you that you can go anywhere and indeed, when you get there, you can do anything.
And remember, while you are there, if you do have a your travel journal about your person, it will be so much easier to avoid any potentially embarrassing silences.
Thanks for reading You Can Do Anything.
When my now-in-middle-years children were small, I used to 'encourage' them to make a travel scrapbook. Entrance tickets, postcards, sugar packets, dead leaves - anything would do. Plus a diary entry for the day in their own handwriting - and ours too, to be fair. They hated me for it. Nowadays, almost whenever they come to visit, they haul out the scrapbooks and pore over them, page by page, having those 'Do you remember when ...?' conversations. I rest my case. Though I note they don't impose the same regime on their own children. Me? My photographs have become my journal. Sometimes my blog. And yes, for special voyages, I still keep a diary. I wish I still diod the scrapbook kind really. Nothing like an old beermat to bring back the memories.
That's a great idea. I may have to scribble some notes down before they disappear from memory altogether. Thank you for sharing. Xx❤️💕✨