A Liminal Space: A Love Letter to Lavenham

Eleven years, a thousand memories, a pair of pink tights and a life I never could have planned.

There’s a beautiful expression for the space between what was and what is yet to come.

A liminal space.

That strange, sometimes uncomfortable place where one chapter of your life is coming to an end, but the next hasn’t quite begun.

And that’s exactly where I find myself today.

After almost eleven years, I’m preparing to say goodbye to Weavers’ and The Swan at Lavenham Hotel and Spa. And, goodness me, I have so many feelings about it.

I’ve spent much of my career travelling the world, building businesses, leading teams and moving on to the next adventure. Four years was usually my limit in any one job. I loved change. I thrived on it.

The Swan was only supposed to be six months.

Eleven years later, here I am.

The place that became my anchor

When I returned to the UK after seventeen years overseas, I had absolutely no idea that Suffolk would become my home.

I had other plans. Life, however, had entirely different ideas.

Those first months back in the UK were not particularly easy. After so many years living and working overseas, finding my feet again was a much bigger adjustment than I had anticipated.

And during a period when life was changing in ways I hadn’t expected, The Swan gave me something incredibly precious.

Stability. Security. Somewhere to belong.

I remember Ingo, who was the general manager at the time, telling me not to worry. Whatever happened, there would always be a job for me at The Swan.

I don’t think he could possibly have known just how much those words meant to me at that particular moment in my life.

When so much around me felt uncertain, he gave me something I desperately needed. Security. Reassurance. The feeling that somebody was looking out for me.

And that kindness became a theme throughout my eleven years at The Swan.

The Swan has been my anchor. My compass. My north, my south, my east and my west.

It has been the place where I found my feet, rebuilt my life and, without quite realising it, put down roots.

The people who made it home

I have always believed that a business is only ever as wonderful as the people within it.

And, my goodness, I have met some extraordinary people.

Over eleven years, I’ve had the privilege of working alongside some incredibly talented individuals, recruiting wonderful therapists, developing teams and watching people grow in confidence and ability.

I’ve watched colleagues arrive, flourish and move on to their own adventures. I’ve made friendships that will last long beyond my time at The Swan.

And I’ve been fortunate enough to work alongside some wonderful general managers and leaders, each of whom has played an important part in my journey.

Ingo, who gave me that all-important reassurance when I first arrived in Suffolk and needed somewhere to find my feet.

James, who spent around five years as my general manager, sharing all sorts of interesting times with me! When COVID arrived, James was there, quite literally living at The Swan and lovingly looking after the hotel while the rest of us navigated those extraordinary months. We’ve been through a great deal together, and I’m delighted that I can now very firmly call him my friend.

David, our CEO, whose leadership and determination helped steady the ship during some of the most uncertain times we’ve ever experienced. I’ll always be grateful for the way he looked after us and ensured we had a business and jobs to return to.

And, more recently, Rosa, who joined us around a year ago. Although our time working together has been relatively short, a lovely friendship has evolved. And perhaps one of the nicest things about leaving is that we now get to enjoy each other’s company simply as friends, without the demands of the working day!

Each of these people has played a part in my story, and I’m enormously grateful to them all.

But it’s not just the people who have led the business.

It’s every therapist, receptionist, housekeeper, chef, manager and colleague who has contributed to making The Swan such a special place.

Some people have taught me things without ever realising it. Others have challenged me, supported me, made me laugh until I’ve cried or simply been there when I needed them.

And somewhere along the way, all those people and experiences became part of who I am today.

I’ve always been someone who throws her whole heart into her work. Mark, my fiancé, frequently tells me that my career is my hobby.

He’s not entirely wrong.

I’ve poured so much love into Weavers’ House Spa, and I know that the relationships I’ve built there are not going to disappear simply because I no longer have an office or a set of keys.

And it’s not just the people I’ve worked with.

It’s our wonderful guests, our neighbours, the independent businesses and the familiar faces I see when I walk through Lavenham.

I’ve never actually lived in Lavenham, but somehow, it feels like home.

A little bit of Lavenham magic

There’s a story I’ve shared before, in a blog I wrote in 2022 called Time⁠. And it feels particularly special to revisit it now.

Shortly after I started working at The Swan, my lovely nan passed away.

My nan was quite an adventurer. She had travelled around the world, enjoyed cruises and collected memories from places far and wide, at a time when travelling wasn’t nearly as accessible as it is today.

I’ve loved looking through old photographs ever since I was a child, and after she died, I found myself going through her collection.

And there, amongst all those wonderful memories, was an old black-and-white photograph of my granddad.

Standing outside The Crooked House in Lavenham.

The photograph was taken in 1982, when I was just three years old.

The very same Crooked House that stands opposite Weavers’ House Spa.

The very same house I had walked past on my way to work.

My grandparents lived in Harborne, Birmingham. I had no idea that my granddad had ever visited Lavenham, let alone stood outside a building that would become part of my everyday life decades later.

And then came another extraordinary coincidence.

The Crooked House is now home to Alex and Ollie, two wonderful people I’ve been fortunate enough to get to know. And one of them has family connections to Harborne, the very place my grandparents came from.

What are the chances?

I’ve always felt that Lavenham has a little bit of magic about it. A way of bringing people together, creating connections and making you feel that perhaps you were meant to find your way there all along.

That photograph is one of my most treasured possessions.

And every time I think about it, I smile.

The girl in the pink tights

There’s another thread that has run through my years in Suffolk.

My tights.

Yes, my tights!

Anyone who knows me will know that I have an extraordinary collection of colourful Snag tights. And depending on how I’m feeling, the colour of my tights can tell quite a story.

But the pink ones? They’re rather special.

Sometimes I wear them because I’m feeling fabulous and I want the world to know it.

Sometimes I wear them because I’ve got an important meeting, a big decision to make or something a little bit scary ahead of me.

And sometimes I wear them because I’m feeling anxious, uncertain or not quite myself.

On those days, the pink tights come out because I need a little extra confidence. A little bit of colour. A little reminder of the person I know I am, even when I’m not particularly feeling like her.

They’ve accompanied me through so many different versions of myself over the years.

Through the good days, the difficult days, the extraordinary opportunities and the moments when I’ve had to dig a little deeper to find my courage.

I suppose they’ve become my own little way of saying, Come on, Alex. You’ve got this.

And as I prepare to step into this next chapter, I suspect those pink tights are going to be working rather hard!

The courage to begin again

And so, here I am, standing in this strange liminal space.

For most of my career, I’ve been building other people’s businesses.

I’ve been the person behind the scenes, the advisor, the people champion, the one who brings the sunshine, the one who finds solutions and helps turn beautiful places into extraordinary experiences.

I’ve loved it. Every bit of it.

But somewhere along the way, another little dream started to grow.

What if I took everything I’ve learnt, all those years of experience, all that passion for looking after people, and poured it into something of my own?

What if, after spending so many years believing in other people and their businesses, I finally gave myself that same belief?

And that’s exactly what I’m doing.

I’m taking a leap of faith in myself.

It’s exciting. It’s liberating. And, if I’m being completely truthful, it’s also a little bit terrifying.

But I have a beautiful studio just fifteen minutes down the road in Kersey, a head full of ideas, a heart full of passion and the freedom to create something that is entirely my own.

And for the first time in my career, I get to build a business that reflects everything I believe in.

Not goodbye, just down the road

Perhaps the most extraordinary thing about these eleven years is how completely different my life looks from the one I had planned.

When I first arrived in Suffolk, I had no intention of staying.

And now?

Suffolk is my home. I’ve made the most wonderful friends. I’ve found a place where I belong.

And next year, I get to marry Mark, the man I would never have met if life hadn’t brought me here.

The unexpected man who arrived at exactly the right time.

I have so much to thank this beautiful county for.

And as I prepare to leave The Swan, I find myself feeling an enormous amount of gratitude, alongside a little sadness, a lot of excitement and all those peculiar feelings that come with change.

But I’m not going anywhere, really.

I’ll be just down the road in Kersey, and I fully intend to remain a familiar face in Lavenham. There are far too many people I love here for me to disappear.

To every person who has been part of these extraordinary eleven years, whether we’ve worked together, shared a friendship, welcomed guests or simply exchanged a smile in the streets of Lavenham, thank you.

Thank you for the opportunities, the kindness, the laughter, the challenges, the friendships and the memories.

Thank you for helping me find my feet, my confidence and, ultimately, my home.

And thank you for being such an enormous part of the person I am today.

A little thing called time- you can read the orginal blog here.

Four years ago, I wrote a blog about time. About my granddad standing outside The Crooked House in 1982, and about finding myself working directly opposite that very building decades later.

I wondered then whether I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Eleven years after arriving in Lavenham, I think I have my answer.

I was.

And perhaps that’s the beautiful thing about time. It doesn’t always take us where we planned to go, but sometimes it takes us exactly where we need to be.

I arrived in Suffolk with a completely different plan for my life.

I’m leaving The Swan with a life I never could have imagined.

And whilst I’m stepping into something new, I will always carry these eleven years with me.

Because you can take the girl out of The Swan at Lavenham, but you can never take The Swan at Lavenham out of the girl.

And as for the next chapter?

Well, I think it’s going to require a rather fabulous pair of pink tights.

With everlasting love and gratitude,

Alex x