WITHOUT A STRUGGLE, THERE CAN BE NO PROGRESS

Long time, no content. The last six months seem to have slipped right on by, don’t they?! How are you? Is there anything new in the world?
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They say you get to an age where everything happens at once. I think that age may be happening to me at the moment. Since I last made myself heard here, every major thing in my life has changed. New job, new house, new friends, new pressures, new priorities.  These last few months have been pretty
tricky. Everything has felt cumbersome, complicated – exhausting. After a few days of respite from the office, I’m still so tired that mid-afternoon shakes overcome me daily. My body is ready and waiting for some new priorities – more sleep, more vegetables, more gentle strolls and afternoon swims.

Chance would be a fine thing. In e-com land, it’s full steam ahead for Christmas, and there is absolutely no respite for us manipulative bastards trying to convince you to part with your hard earned pennies in time for the festive season. Just wait, we’ll be stalking you round the internet, reminding of you of those god awful smelling candles you thought your mother-in-law might like before you know it. (Although, before you wack an ad blocker on everything, think of all the hard work you’re frustrating. Just for a second… then… as you were).

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The biggest change is definitely in home life. I’m writing this from my new home office, in the North London abode I’m now sharing with O. After three years together, we’ve taken the plunge. Fair to say we were probably both inordinately terrified, but so far we’ve bumbled along together without too many skirmishes. (Ikea rants and flat pack fall outs aside. They definitely don’t count). I’ve moved house three times in 18 months, and my last place of residence was an intensely stressful, anxiety inducing, misery causing experience. Not because anyone was horrible (may be), but a true personality clash that caused a great deal of sadness and did irrevocable damage to a once strong friendship. Some people, are truly not supposed to live together.

Yet, coming home to this tiny white box of ours, makes my soul sigh with peace. Despite the loo-flushing incident (don’t ask), the perpetual left on light switches, abandoned water glasses on every surface, one of us spending hours slaving over the stove, whilst the other spends equal hours cleaning every darn pan in the place… It finally feels like home. Not aesthetically perfect, not without snags, but a true sanctuary – a retreat from the hustle and noise of London, far above the city, with uninterrupted views for miles and miles. True bliss.IMG_9919

This week we have a permanently revolving door of guests, with parents, siblings, best friends, all coming to pop champagne corks and explore our new locals. Exhausting in its own right (particularly laundering fresh bedding and keeping the bathroom floor clean), but the kind of exhausted that keeps your heart filled with love for those people who make you laugh until you knock port across the new white table cloth (my bad).

I haven’t cooked so much in the past year, as I have this week – it’s felt like a new recipe or two every day, and so far no one has been poisoned. This afternoon I somewhat absent mindedly picked up my camera, and it reminded me how much I had missed you. So here I am – just saying hello.

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