My mistake…
My own mistakes were never really an option growing up. It was slightly odd, having swathes of freedom in many ways, but steered and guided
My own mistakes were never really an option growing up. It was slightly odd, having swathes of freedom in many ways, but steered and guided
I would not have mounted my Arabian steed and seen some of the most breathtaking views of my life. I would not have experienced one
who dares wins The Major and I went to stay for a weekend at my old friend’s farm in mid Devon. One evening Rob and
Raped, victim and feminist; labels I hate, boxes I tick. This is an uncomfortable read; it’s been an uncomfortable write. Growing up I was conditioned
Working at a community event the other day in Manchester, on the wrong side of the tracks, I made a faux pas. It set my
‘My Lady’ would set me homework as part of my CBT course. I explored my beliefs, values and rules, latterly guidelines, for living. This considered,