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
30/11/2019 No Comments
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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,