Turn the clock back a few weeks (months?), a friend from my past reminded me in passing that I had apparently stopped writing this blog. That reminder surprised me for two reasons: the time has passed so quickly since my departure from Cambridge a few months ago; and that anyone reads this blog at all. So if you are reading this, thanks a bunch for dropping by from time to time!
The past few months have been an interesting period of time for this country: a once-in-a-generation political change is dragging itself along like a horse feasted on a bucket of fermented grain, worrying the passers-by that it might fall over at any moment. I am certainly cautiously optimistic about the chances, as the passing of August not only marked my seventh year in this country, but also the first proper year of me not being a student of some kind.
This is also not the first time I "abused" this quote from one of my favourite book series (and TV show), but I have indeed been in the fearful north (York) the last few days, reconnecting with the past. Consequentially, here's a photo of Knaresborough with an atrocious filter: