I write to remember the things that my brain, inevitably, will forget.
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2020: It hasn’t all been great, but it hasn’t all been bad, and I think that’s all any of us can hope for from a year like this one.
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I’ve been finding so many delights to consume and read and listen to and I wanted to immortalise them for your own pottering pleasure.
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Instagram, my difficult lover, my complex friend, my loathsome enemy, I said, will we ever find equilibrium?
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No wine, spirits or beer for a whole entire year.
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In the inky blackness of the night, I am led only by a glow that bleeds from an open doorway. The fire is burning.
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Remember that time I used to write a blog? No, neither do I.
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I love a New Year. And I love an Old Year. Particularly this one.
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It’s November 25th. The sky is miserably grey and despite being five days away from summer, I’ve had to pull out my thermals again.
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