Summer wasn’t meant to be this way. Summer was meant to be about feeling the sun on your face, lifting your chin to let it filter down your body, enveloping you in a cocoon of gold.
In the very small fragment of time that I’ve spent blogging I’ve read some fabulous blogs, learned a massive amount and stored away little nuggets of ideas for how I’d like my blog to be. I always quite liked the
It’s National Novel Writing Month, or #NaNoWriMo to its friends and twitter followers. The challenge has been set – to write 50,000 words in the month of November. The equivalent to a novel, apparently.
“Open the door Emma, my key won’t bloody work…” “Em! I know you’re in there – c’mon, it’s pissing down out here!” “Jesus Christ woman, what is this?! I’ve just got off an eight hour flight, I don’t need this
It’s a prevailing emotion in my world. I fluctuate between having the confidence to speak my mind and stick my neck out when the situation requires, and paralysing paranoia that I’ve said or done the wrong thing, or that what