I don’t eat raisins but would you like a date?

Ta-da!

No your eyes are not deceiving you – it is I, Sophie Fox.  Messing up your timeline with the kind of self-obsessed drivel that makes Donald Trump sound like the Dalai Lama.

Happy Christmas, Winter Solstice, Hannukah, New Year, Dry January, and Pancake Tuesday.

 

I have decided to start writing again.  Mainly because my dad keeps bugging me about it but also, I feel like you, Dear Reader, were so welcoming to me nearly two years ago and I am not repaying the favour.  It is the equivalent of bringing round a bottle of cheap plonk to a dinner party and then drinking the Verve Cliquot someone else brought.

I would never do that btw…

Me at most social occaisions

Me at most every social occasion

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That escalated quickly

I am too cool.

I am too cool.

Hello Dear Reader,

I’m glad you have managed to overcome all the eclipse related excitement to stop by Sophie, She Wrote.

Today is an anniversary of sorts.  This time last year I sat down to watch Murder She Wrote and realised I had already seen it.

That kind of thing shouldn’t happen when you are 28 and it made me have a quiet word with myself.  I decided there and then that I needed to be doing something more productive with my life and I immediately marched outside shouted “Hello World!” and began to pursue my dreams. Continue reading