I know, I’m supposed to have gone for a nap and then told you all about visiting Normandy. Instead, I’ve been boycotting my own blog. I don’t know why. I’ve just been feeling the NO lately. You know:
There’s no reason for it. This is my blog. I do what I like here. It’s mine. But I’m looking at the daffodils in my back garden and remembering the glorious burst of sun that appeared with our daffodils last year and I just
I’m remembering my six-month transition musings from twelve months ago and I am just
I’ve put in my time. Eighteen month’s worth. I’m as transitioned as I’m going to get. I not only know where to buy milk — my baseline for survival — I can balance the various merits of seven different groceries and chart out a driving route without access to my satnav before I decide to go out and pick up a pint or two, or order online.
But this week, I am just NO. No, England. No.