October was a strange time of year for me. I'd started to run low on money so I was looking for a job, I took a lot of walks out along the shore by the lighthouse just to get out of the house because Grandma and I were adjusting to it just being the two of us.

But early in my stay I'd booked a coach tour to see the Battlefields of the Western Front (if there's an area I'm forever a history nerd about, this is it)

That trip was amazing. As per usual, I was on my own, but everyone else was paired up. Instead of being isolating though, I found that they were all interested in why I was there, and more than happy to sit and talk for long stretches of time.

I even won over the tour guide who I think was under the impression that I was some kind of whimsical moron wandering around with a DSLR around my neck just there to take pictures and not someone who soaks up history knowledge like it's going out of fashion - he found out otherwise when I was wandering around the bookshop at the museum in Poziers with so many books I couldn't see over the top, complaining that I had to leave some behind because they wouldn't all fit in my suitcase.

I can't find the right combination of songs to make a mix for this one, so this will be another picture heavy post. but I hope I can convey the absolute awe I experienced visiting these places, and the way it made me feel especially in the context of my own 'struggles' at the time. They were so insignificant when you could see the scars left on the land from over 100 years ago.