Hello beaurriful people. I have just come back from an amazing birthday weekend in the city of Madrid. To be honest – it was cold, colder than I would’ve liked, but we still got a little bit of sunshine and even better, I avoided the negative degree weather here in England. I miss it already! This year I’ve been able to travel to 4 countries in 3 months of the year, with two of these trips unplanned, which has been fab (and a blessing) as I always find travelling to be the absolute best way to get a breather from the realities of London. What’s next on my list is to book a holiday to Greece this summer – I’m bouncing back and forth between Mykonos and Santorini and although I may not go until July or so, I am already extremely excited.
The first thing I ever wanted to “be” was a nurse – I had seen some nurse costumes in an Argos catalogue and I decided it was my destiny to follow that path. Soon after, I decided I wanted to pursue writing. I wrote my first story when I was 5 years old, and over time I would fold together pieces of paper and use the left hand side to draw biro stick figures, and the right hand side to scribble down trivial stories. I graduated over time to using the computer to write stories, and by the time I was 15 I was printing and stapling down 100+ page novels. I stored all my stories in a shoe box, which I still have stowed away in a wardrobe in my room in my family home. At some point the dream of being an actress got intertwined in there, and now I don’t even know what I want to “be” aside from successful, running my own businesses and making lots of money. This thought popped into my head the other day – it seemed I had failed at every single dream I had when growing up. I’m not a nurse – or qualified to be one, I’m definitely not an Oscar winning actress and I haven’t become J.K. Rowling.