The Valentine’s Chronicles

 

339F1698-226A-42CE-A377-98D28DC17AC3.jpeg

 

 

My first Valentine’s Day of any significance happened when I was at primary school. I must have been ten or eleven years old, and was shyly handed an envelope at school, by a boy named Martin, before he dashed off in an embarrassed, awkward hurry.

Back then, I was a very different me to the girl, woman, I am today – this was in the days of bootcut jeans, tracksuit tops and mousy brown hair. Before dark dye, before my daily ritual of false eyelashes and overdrawn lips, and before I’d had my heart bruised and broken by a string of different boys.

Continue reading “The Valentine’s Chronicles”

Advertisements

2018 : Here’s To The Unknown

London Oxford Street

White skies stretched over London, this New Year’s Eve. No calming blue, no angry gray, no romantic hues of pink or orange.

A blank canvas, perhaps in anticipation for the bright, bold streaks of sparkling fireworks in just a matter of hours, to mark the end of one year and the beginning of the next.

2017, for me, was a year of learning. Of growth. Of risks.

Continue reading “2018 : Here’s To The Unknown”

Long Live The Storytellers

 

 

 

Eat, sleep, work, repeat.

That’s how my mornings feel, sometimes.

The alarm goes off, and I struggle to believe that it really is 6 o’clock in the morning because of the smug, thick blackness pressed to my bedroom windows.

I’m an ‘early-riser’, a ‘before the dawn’er. I open my eyes long before the sun reaches out and cradles the sky with its sunbeam fingertips, before the rays slowly change the blackness to grey, to navy, to streaks of periwinkle and coral, finally settling on a defiant September sheet of cold, crisp cloud.

It’s too early for breakfast, it’s always too early for breakfast. Toothpaste, warpaint, clothes, placating an impatient taxi driver, greeting a familiar face at the train station, “the usual”, and I’m on the train, applying the lipstick I didn’t have time to finish before leaving the house.

There’s a lot of us, the early-risers. We have our routines. A radio station, a kiss, a cup of tea.

Regardless, they are still routine to the individual. It’s no wonder then, that we occasionally find ourselves yearning for a little break from the norm, for a little escapism.

Continue reading “Long Live The Storytellers”