The Beginning: Beaches, Books and Biscuits.
It began, as all good stories do, with a book. A really really pretty book. A pale pink, leather-bound notebook with gold trims that was, quite frankly, to die for. It was far too pretty to use as a day-to-day note book in uni lectures, and equally too pretty to go to waste sat on my desk, and so I decided I had to write something in it that would make it worth keeping. I began with lists of films and books I wanted to watch and read that year, goals I had set for 2019 and what I'd learned in 2018 (it was of course the beginning of a new year, hence the sudden ridiculous need to do something new), and then carefully, albeit poorly, wrote 'January' in a swirly, fancy font, predictably copied from Pintrest. Then I wrote out my favourite poem for this time of year, Ring Out Wild Bells by Tennyson, in an attempt to inspire myself to expel my old, lazy and uncreative ways. Then naturally I got stuck. I had nothing to write. I trawled Pintrest and other people's blogs on jo...