I've become one of those annoying bloggers that I profess to intensely disliking who only posts weepy crap about how hard their life is.
But seriously, it's transition era, and I'm kind of not a fan of sitting around and thinking about it. I'm practically broke (ok not literally, but I am a paradox with money - borderline incapable of saving it without someone to lock it away yet fucking terrified every time I come home with a shopping bag, breathing deeply and looking at my bag warily thinking 'what have I done??'), almost in possession of a nice place to stay in London where I have several nice friendly friends but no security of any kind, a small pet that I am convinced I'm the worst pet-mother of ever (thanks to a lovely friend who told me so, and the fact that I have been spending too much time with real humans to play with her all the time), a desperation to escape and a desire to stay more than anything.
Blind panic sets in.
And then, while doing research for a piece on wedding venues for the magazine, I see this image.
And it warms my tiny frantic heart.