In an email to a friend, I referred to Old Rope, a new material comedy night of which I've become a regular, as "the meaning of life." Certainly this could be thought of as hyperbole, but feels strangely true. Because why on earth shouldn't it be? Why, in the London life I've been dreaming of …
In which things start to come together in a major way
It’s a bit weird when things start to make sense. It’s weirder still the way that happens sometimes. Case in point: I mentioned previously how I’d been making friends in all sorts of unexpected places, and briefly mentioned someone I’d met in a vintage shop. Since that incident ended up leading to some major life …
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Three weeks in.
There’s this part of my brain that demands that I only talk about the positive parts of this, only remember the good. But that’s not really realistic, is it, particularly in the context of life changes? I pride myself on being very honest (years of not being able to lie even in the context of …
Leslie Ewing-Burgesse* 