I was planning to write a post about how much I love November. Which I do. Growing up, Halloween was never much of a thing for me and my family but Bonfire Night was. It marked the start of winter in celebratory style. I remember the crisp cold and woolly hats that accompanied firework displays with great affection. And even though this year it hasn’t got that cold just yet, it’s definitely coming. The trees are bare, the rain is freezing, the big winter coats are out and I love it all.
However, my affection for November has been marred by our having received two lots of bad news in the past week, which between them mean I have barely had a minute to spare. I haven’t watched any TV, and if I hadn’t just started an amazing, gripping book I probably wouldn’t have read anything either.
Thankfully, I had picked up Little Black Lies by Sharon Bolton, which was so good that I squeezed in reading it at every opportunity, finishing it in the early hours of Sunday morning. I will review it as soon as I find the time, but for now I owe Sharon Bolton a huge thank you for writing the book that has kept me sane during a tough time.
And if I owe her a huge thanks, then the thank you I owe Tim is unquantifiable. Thank you.