I’ve always found something quite cleansing about New Year. A fresh start, another chance at things. It’s all in my head for certain, but either way, I find a lot of solace in the opportunity to begin again.
This weekend the final remnants of Christmas were removed from my flat. I know, I’m perhaps a little hasty in my removal of the colossal tree and homemade bunting, but to me the new year should start afresh. A blank and clean slate ready for what’s to come. As such everything is spick and spank. Fresh sheets are now on the bed, a diffuser with just a slight promise of the spring to come is beginning to cut through cinnamon-spiced air of the festive season and a blank diary lies in wait atop my desk. The possibilities for the year to come are, at this point, absolutely endless.