As 2025 rushes to a close, I find myself looking back with a mixture of gratitude, disbelief, and a very specific kind of happy exasperation that only comes from a year that refused to follow the plan.

Storms – Within and Without

This was meant to be a year of walking and writing. In many ways, it was. There were pilgrimages, long drives, ancient places, and books that finally found their way into the world. And then there were storms. Real ones. The kind that write off cars. More than one. In the same family. And a roof — my roof — that now needs replacing at a cost that makes you go very quiet and start doing maths you’d rather avoid.

So no, I didn’t finish my Camino book this year. The one on the magical Portuguese Camino – all along the sea and then into the cascades of the mountains. And yes, I had to cancel my 2026 trip to Spain. Not because the road stopped calling, but because sometimes life steps in front of the path and says, “Not just yet.”

Still, a surprising amount happened. Looking back it’s more than I thought. Deceptive Memory and imposter syndrome lurk about all the time – they need a good thwack on the head!

Writing

The year opened in familiar territory, with Camino-themed work that culminated in the release of the Camino wordsearch puzzles in March. Spring brought a major turning point: TCAAA was finally available in all formats — ebook, paperback, and audiobook. By June, it had become a Top 1 New Release, which felt equal parts gratifying and surreal. The accompanying course followed soon after.

In August, Athanasius made its way into the world, and in December, Practice of the Presence closed the publishing year — a quieter book for a quieter moment. 

Community and Friends

Alongside the books, there was community. In October, I led an author masterclass and hosted the Himalayan Writing Retreat — five days from late September into early October, spent on a ridge in the Himalayas with writers who showed up with courage, curiosity, and open notebooks. The work there wasn’t about productivity for its own sake. It was about steadiness. About protecting the creative mind in a world that asks far too much of it.

This was also a year of connection — and reconnection. I found myself picking up conversations that had been paused by time and distance, slipping back into friendships as if no time had passed at all. There were long, unhurried talks, shared meals, and moments of real laughter that reminded me how sustaining good company can be. I also made new friends — the unexpected kind, met on roads, at retreats, and in quiet corners of conversation. The sort who arrive without fuss and somehow make the year richer simply by being in it.

Rebirth of an Empire

Well at least in fiction. Later in the year, a long-paused historical fiction project resurfaced — one that has waited patiently for me to return to it. The story is rooted in the Vijayanagara Empire, one of South India’s great powers, centred around Hampi. It feels like coming home to a story that has always been mine to tell, even if I wasn’t ready before now.

Travel threaded its way through the year in fragments and intensities. January was devoted to the Kumbh Mela. February involved a long drive from Goa to Bangalore. April brought a climb up Kosciuszko. Where I conquered my fear of heights – for now.

July marked the Feast of St James. September unfolded across India — Chitradurga, Shivanasamudra, Rishikesh, Dehra Dun.

December not gently, but with a new beginning – a new thing for me – cruising! I was always afraid of seasickness, of covid, or all kinds of things – but again. I went. I enjoyed. I wrote!

It wasn’t the year I planned. But it was a year that asked for adaptability, honesty, and a willingness to pause without giving up.

Some journeys happened on foot, sone by road, some by seaOthers happened sitting very still, figuring out how to move forward when the map changes.

The work continues. The road is still there. And when the time is right, I’ll walk it again. And now back to writing! Hold me accountable!