I realise that this may not be the most endearing of beginnnings, but I would like to begin my blog with something I read in my horoscope almost 15 years ago. To make things even worse for myself whilst ensuring I never have a repeat visit to my site, I'm going to 'fess up that this was the Mail on Sunday horoscope section. In my defence I was 11 and the only reading material I had available to me was the Mail on Sunday (courtesy of Dad who bought it for the telly guide because the boxes to write the lottery numbers in on a Saturday were bigger than the Telegraph's telly pages) or the Sunday People.
Horoscopes are normally even more useless to 11 year-old pre-pubescent girls than they are to 26 year-old pre-alchololic, workaholic, shopaholic women (yes reader, I achieved my three goals in life and not necessarily in that order), but on this occasion the astrologer dude skipped over the "love will bump into you in the rain and will begin with the letter Z" rubbish and offered us Cancerians something so simple yet so beautiful the words will dance around my soul forever.
"One cannot consent to creep, when one feels the impulse to soar."
And so, the first chance I got I packed my bags and moved to Manchester.
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