The Daily Telegraph - Saturday - Travel
Don’t slate us for saying we miss travel
A winter without a holiday is a mental health challenge for me – but I’m not alone, says Anna Hart
As we sink into another lockdown in England, can we please agree on one thing: we won’t belittle other people’s experiences of hardship, the little luxuries they bitterly miss, the restrictions they find hardest to stick to, the very specific challenges that lockdown presents for them.
Yes, this means that if a friend is devastated about nail bars being closed, we listen patiently and sympathetically. If someone throws a tantrum about their weekly football matches coming to an abrupt end, we let them grieve. And if a would-be traveller is gutted about cancelling a weekend away in Naples, or even their fancy week in Barbados, we don’t scoff. Because here’s the thing: it is entirely possible to grasp the enormity of this global humanitarian crisis, and still kind of wish you’d had your roots done at the salon. Humans are capable of caring about the NHS as well as really missing their 8am spin class, their local pub, or their church. One of the ugliest things about the last lockdown was the eye-rolling, scoffing and the “first-world problems” mutterings, when anyone dared to say they were sad about anything other than people dying.
Travellers, or would-be travellers, were a prime target. We were told we were spoiled, we were selfish, we were vain, for craving something as trivial as a holiday. But for many, holidays don’t feel like an indulgence, they feel like a necessity. Whether we dreamed of a weekend visit to see family, a camping trip in Scotland, or a beach break in Greece, travel means a lot to us. So don’t listen to the travel-shamers; if you’ve had to cancel a long-awaited trip, or you’re depressed at the thought of a long winter without a getaway, your feelings are valid.
Let’s be clear: I’m not anti-lockdown. I accept strict measures are now necessary. My brother, Pete, is a consultant anaesthetist at Bradford Royal Infirmary, so I have a direct line into this disaster, and I’ve been more cautious and compliant than most. But I’m still gutted I won’t be going to California (to see my sister Naomi, and my relentlessly cute nephews) this winter. Right now I’m not railing against travel restrictions, but I am railing against those who can’t understand travel is a significant loss to many.
Visiting family and friends, and holidays, along with things like gyms, team sports, parties, gigs, church services, beauty salons; these are the things we rely on to sweeten life and keep us sane. Personally, yes, I can handle not having a manicure for a few months. I won’t exactly be missing team sports. But if a friend phones me up mid-lockdown, depressed because she hates what she sees in the mirror, I’m resolved to listen
patiently and sympathetically. And I’d like a similar degree of respect and understanding for us travellers, please.
I’ll be painfully honest: I’m scared about the winter months ahead and what they hold. Travel has always been my go-to self-help intervention, the thing I could rely on to reset myself, reinstill healthy habits, inspire me, relax me, and return me to my everyday life feeling restored and ready for anything.
I’m fairly content to remain in the UK for the summer, and this year my big holiday was a week camping in Wales in September with my parents. But every winter for the past few years, I’ve visited family and friends in California, and this blast of sun, loved ones and iced matcha lattes in LA never failed to fix me.
In the years when I’ve failed to get away, I’ve slid into quite a serious seasonal pattern depression, and despite my best efforts, I’ve been prescribed antidepressants in February or March. So a winter without travel is a mental health challenge I’m bracing myself for, but I’m not an unusual case. Holidays simply work. They mend frayed nerves, they bond families, couples, friendships, they uplift and inspire, they restore and relax.
Yes, some holidays are fabulously indulgent, but this does not mean that all travel is a vain indulgence. Holidays, from the simple to the spectacular, are a vital pillar of our wellbeing, and deserve to be taken seriously. We all know this is a medical, humanitarian and financial crisis. But it’s also a mental health catastrophe, and we’ll only make it through if we’re permitted to grieve for that longed-for football match, neglected manicure, or cancelled trip to Greece.
We need to be able to express our frustrations. So welcome to Lockdown 2.0, where there are officially no restrictions around moaning. Not even about missing travel.