HER STORY

If there is one thing I know now, it is this: there is no single path to becoming who we are meant to be. Sometimes the long way around is not a delay at all—but the very road that makes us ready.

Pickleball doesn’t care about your age, your hair colour, your job title, or what stage of life you’re in. It just asks that you show up. And when you do, something magical happens. Your mind silences. The mental chatter fades. The to-do lists, the worries, the grief, the “what-ifs”… all gone, replaced by one simple job: don’t miss the ball.

I often tell people that in Central Australia, I’m your Kapi Kunga — the one who brings the rain, thunder, and lightning when you visit. I’m a tour guide and driver in the Red Centre, and I genuinely love sharing this astonishing place with people from all over the world.

What I’ve learned is that blended families live in the space between choice and circumstance. We don’t choose how we begin, but we often choose how we continue. Over time, we build something that is part inherited, part earned.

I spent some time exploring a range of options, yet nothing fired my dopamine-seeking brain. Whenever I felt frustrated, I turned to maps and went out exploring. Over time, I began to realise that the answer lay somewhere in the woods, fields, and beaches I wandered.

After fifty years of always being someone’s other half, I’m learning to just be Robin. Not half of anything. Not smaller to make space for someone else. Just me — sensitive, strong, still learning, still here. And for the first time, that feels like enough.

For those who have already walked the Camino de Santiago, you know the lessons you learn out there stay with you. The Camino speaks to you. It tugs at you. Repeatedly. It never truly goes away.

A friend once told me, “Salt Spring Island has your name on it.” For years, I doubted those words. But now, after four years of challenge and growth, I see their truth. I’ve come to value the island’s best qualities—its spirit of adventure and entrepreneurialism.

From the outside, my life looked impressive—travel, prestige, and purpose. But inside, something was wrong. I was still teaching and globe-trotting, while unknowingly being in a manic state. I told my AA sponsor that the voices in my head were shouting. “That’s not right,” she encouraged me to see a psychiatrist who confirmed what I had suspected—I had bipolar disorder.

I grew up in a working-class family in the grey sprawl of a council housing estate in London, where money was tight and our annual holiday was usually to a seaside holiday park somewhere in Britain.

Being part of the Sea of Change Choir and the Strip and Dip movement has been a life-changing journey. It’s about much more than music or world records — it’s about courage, community, and supporting one another through life’s challenges.

When my mom passed away, my world shattered. I could no longer call her, hug her, laugh with her, cry with her, or share my life with her. I stopped walking—because walking, for me, became too painful. It reminded me of her.

High on my now-I’m-retired list is a desire to travel and do walks in far-flung places. A close second on said list is an entirely contradictory yearning to share my life with a dog. Drumroll, please…dog-sitting!

Race day arrived and was the hardest physical challenge I’d ever faced. Crossing the finish line, I cried—not just from the joy of the achievement but from the physical and emotional release. I swore I’d never run another marathon, but life had other plans.

My favorite way of engaging with art is when I’m wandering through cities discovering new murals. Stumbling upon vibrant, larger-than-life images feels like a personal discovery, as if the art was waiting for me to find it.

The company needed a leader in Bologna, Italy. As I had all my "work" clothes with me anyway, they flew me straight from Paris to Bologna! I'm a 64-year-old with a miserable pension, and I'm amazed by the opportunities I still have to explore the world.

I had a revelation while standing on this narrow spit of land, gazing out to sea. I would navigate the entire coastline of Kent! I acquired maps and set off. Then I continued into neighboring East and West Sussex and then more inland, eager to explore more.

We had many surfing trips to Tofino and became known as the Surf Sistas. Sharing those days with women, who trusted me, who shared laughs, stories, and feelings over wine, good food, and walks on the beach, was the start of a sisterhood that is still strong today. 

I realized that this trip was a journey through time, into my mother's past and into my future, that our lives are interconnected, and I've become more like my Mom than I ever thought possible.

I discovered Forest Therapy as I was going through menopause. It has helped me weather the storm of my changing body and find inspiration for the years ahead.

Through the thrilling, scary, frustrating, and lovely moments with my family, I am constantly learning about myself. Reflecting on what my parents went through in raising such a free spirit often leaves me breathless.