Lettie Goes Travelling

2026 it will be my thirteenth year of travelling solo — following nearly thirty years of doing very little travelling at all.

Over those thirteen years I’ve had some great holidays, some exceptional ones, a few that were… interesting, and a handful that were genuinely special.

The truly special trips have always involved family. Strictly speaking, not solo travel — but bear with me. Celebrating milestones with the people you love has a way of wrapping the whole experience in a kind of pixie dust that nothing else quite matches.

In 2027, I’ll be celebrating another milestone.

And as I started thinking about how — and where — I might mark it, something shifted.

Time stopped feeling abstract.

The context

I love travelling. I try to take around five trips a year, of varying lengths.

Yes, they call me Judith Chalmers at work.

Yes, it’s a standing joke how many weeks it is until I’m off again.

But travel gives me joy.

I work hard. I don’t drink much, I don’t smoke, I don’t have endless subscriptions, and apart from my garden, travelling is my main indulgence. Holidays are budgeted for, planned, and never booked unless I know I can afford them.

This isn’t recklessness.

It’s choice.

But planning this next celebration brought something into sharper focus.

Retirement isn’t a distant concept anymore.

The quiet recalculation

I have pension provisions in place. I’m not ignoring the future.

But I also know they won’t replace my current salary.

Reduced income means reduced travel.

That’s just maths.

I could cut back — from five trips a year to three — and bank the difference for later. That would be the sensible option on paper.

But one of the milestones I’ll be marking in 2027 is being cancer-free.

That changes how you weigh things.

Living “for today” isn’t about extravagance — it’s about awareness. And honestly, I don’t see much joy in restricting the very thing that brings me the most joy now, in order to maybe enjoy it later.

There’s another truth too, one we don’t talk about much.

Retirement doesn’t just mean less money.

It means an older body.

These bones are already ageing. Hopefully wiser — but definitely older. And when I travel, I don’t just want to look at the beach. I want to walk its length.

When questions start to surface

So somewhere between planning a celebration and doing the sums, a different question appeared.

Not should I travel less?

But how do I protect the life I want to keep living?

That’s where the idea of travel and income starting to sit side by side first took hold for me. Not as a grand plan. Not as a dramatic pivot.

Just as a quiet, practical consideration.

Because when “later” starts feeling closer than you expected, you don’t panic.

You pay attention.