Trip to Blue Planet

Today I went on an adventure with Lauren, and it was the kind of day that stays with you long after you’re home. We went to Blue Planet Aquarium, and I got to spend the day surrounded by water, light, movement, and all the quiet magic that lives beneath the surface.

Getting out always matters to me. It’s not just “a trip out” — it’s the feeling of being part of the world, of having new things to look at, new sounds to hear, new air on my face, and new moments that belong to me. Today was exactly that.

The day started with that familiar buzz that everyone gets when we’re going somewhere. Lauren was calm and organised, making sure everything was in place so I could just… enjoy it. My chair was comfortable, my positioning was right, and we took our time. No rushing, no stress. Just steady, safe, and thoughtful — which makes all the difference for me.

On the way, I watched the world go by through the window. I love that part. The changing light, the movement of cars, the sky doing whatever it wants. It’s a reminder that there’s always more out there than the four walls we spend a lot of time in.

As soon as we walked in, I could feel it — the atmosphere changed. The light inside the aquarium is different. It’s softer, cooler, and everything feels slightly quieter, like the building itself is encouraging you to slow down.

And then there it was: that blue glow coming from the tanks. It’s hard to explain properly, but it feels like being pulled into another world. Water has a way of doing that. It doesn’t shout. It invites.

Lauren stayed close by my side the whole time, watching my cues, checking in with me without making it a “big thing.” She knows me well enough to notice the small signs — when something catches my attention, when I’m settled, when I’m enjoying myself. I don’t need words for that. My face does the talking.

We started with the smaller tanks, and I’m glad we did because they pulled me in straight away. The fish were bright and sharp against the water — flashes of yellow, silver, and orange, little bursts of colour that moved like they were dancing.

I found myself focusing on the details: the way fins ripple like silk, the way some fish hover perfectly still and then suddenly dart forward like they’ve made a decision in a split second. It’s mesmerising. It makes you realise how busy and alive the underwater world is, even when everything seems calm.

Lauren pointed things out as we went along, but not in an overwhelming way. More like she was sharing the moment with me. “Look at that one,” she’d say, and I’d watch it glide past like it owned the place.

Then we reached the tunnel — the part I was most excited for — and honestly, it didn’t disappoint.

Being in that glass tunnel feels like you’re underwater without actually being underwater. The tank curves above you, and the sea life moves over your head like a living ceiling.

I watched sharks pass by slowly, powerful and steady, like they didn’t have a single worry in the world. Their movement is smooth, controlled, almost silent. I could have stayed there for ages, just watching them circle and disappear and then reappear again.

And then the rays came through — wide and graceful, like they were flying. They don’t look real when they move. They look like something from a dream.

Lauren positioned me so I could see everything properly, making sure I had the best view without any discomfort. That’s the kind of care that gives me freedom: when someone handles the practical side so well that I get to focus on the experience, not the effort.