I always loved a new year and a new diary, its crisp blank pages ready for plans and intentions. This year, though, I looked out at the skeletal trees, the leaden London sky and the weary mask filled streets and decided that, like nature, I would sit January out.
A Love Letter to January
A Love Letter to January
A Love Letter to January
I always loved a new year and a new diary, its crisp blank pages ready for plans and intentions. This year, though, I looked out at the skeletal trees, the leaden London sky and the weary mask filled streets and decided that, like nature, I would sit January out.