If you've read my previous post on visiting York, it will come as no surprise that this gorgeous city ranks very highly on my list of favourite places in the UK. It's like a larger, fancier version of my beloved Canterbury, and as a bonus is also currently home to my youngest sister while she finishes her degree! So when my uni besties and I were planning a pre-Christmas meet up, York felt like the perfect place to visit for some festive cheer.

We drove up early on Saturday morning amidst the mist and fog, at times feeling as though we were driving through clouds! I took such joy in spotting each and every sign for "the North" - it tickles me for some reason (probably Game of Thrones related). We arrived in York right in time for lunch!





Unbeknownst to us, we'd chosen possibly the busiest weekend to visit - the city centre was heaving while we pushed our way through the Christmas market and perused restaurants for somewhere to eat! We made sure to book a restaurant and the York Cocoa House for Saturday evening dessert (their hot chocolates are what dreams are made of) before retiring to our delightful Airbnb for the night. We stayed just outside the city, surrounded by crisp frosty fields, in the cosiest home we could possibly have found. It was the most charming Victorian house, with a luxury bathroom (the heated floor was very welcome after freezing temperatures!) and to top it all off, the hosts cooked us a marvellous full English the next morning. The cherry on top was their gorgeous springer spaniel Colby, who graciously allowed Stephie and I to give him lots of goodbye cuddles. I would absolutely recommend John and Branwen's home for anyone looking for somewhere luxurious and affordable to stay near York. This is not an ad - we all just really adored their hospitality!





On Sunday, after stuffing ourselves with our delicious cooked breakfast, we attempted to walk it off by roaming around the Museum Gardens, down the Shambles and back up to the city walls, peering into divinely sculpted back gardens and dreaming of owning one of the enormous houses clustered behind the Minster. After a quick bite to eat at Olivia's Café, and a quick detour to the Yorkshire Soap Company to stock up on candles (their Whitby Bay and Cashmere & Cocoa candles are utterly gorgeous, and they have 15% off until 31st January!), we said our goodbyes and started the long journey home.












I didn't think it was possible to fall more in love with York, but I did - it's such a beautiful, vibrant city, with the dreamiest buildings. I definitely want to head back before my sister graduates next year and before I get too big to clamber up the steps to my beloved Gatehouse Coffee...

Oh hi, remember me?

I've been more absent than usual recently and you might have noticed me moaning about being poorly on various social media channels (and goodness, have I whinged!). Well, the thing is, I've had an extremely good reason for all of this.

To be accurate, it's a super cute, bouncy, avocado-sized, baby-shaped reason!




It's the most wonderful surprise we could ever have hoped for. I've not spoken about it much, but for the last couple of years, after experiencing various health issues and talking to some fantastically tactless doctors (cheers y'all) I always thought pregnancy would be something beyond my reach.

When I was eighteen and undergoing cancer treatment I remember the doctors advising that radiation could cause infertility - fine, I said, I need to get better - and I wouldn't change my decision in hindsight because really, who would? It was only a decade later, married with a husband who always dreamed of his own family, that I started to ponder whether my body could actually provide the children he so badly wanted. And then came that lovely NHS specialist who shrugged at me, told me I had polycystic ovaries and an underactive thyroid on top of everything else, and basically sent me on my way empty-handed. I'm probably over-dramatising this in my head but that day I became utterly convinced I'd struggle to conceive. I built a plan in my head, a couple of years to save for treatments, I changed my diet, I watched everyone else around me fall pregnant and I wondered if I'd always be the odd one out.

And then.

One day in October, I cried at an advert on TV (the Lloyds TSB one, where the horse runs in slow-motion through people's lives... I KNOW.) and I thought that was very unlike me, it takes absolute devastation to get me to cry. I put it down to impending PMT.

And then despite having days of cramps, my period had yet to make an appearance. Lateness was not unfamiliar, but the cramps? They were something else. I had stomach pains that were so bad, I had to get off a train on the way to work and just cry on a bench for a bit.

Then one day I cried while reading the news the following morning (although in fairness, the news is bloody depressing). I'm really not a big crier, so it started to set off little question marks in my head. My manager at work and my friend both started asking me questions, saying could it maybe, could you be...?

And then.

And then.

Well, I bought three tests. And I had to google the first one because it was the cheapest one in Boots and I couldn't remember if that faint line had been there before. But the two digital ones that followed were absolutely unmistakable. The impossible had happened. Somewhere deep within me, a baby was coming to life.

It felt quite unreal at first, to think there is a little person developing in my tummy - it's still sinking in now. We had our 12 week scan at the end of November and I have never been so relieved in my life - thankfully baby was measuring fine and appearing healthy, despite bouncing all over the place and making it hard to get a clear picture at first.



So here we are, and we're absolutely over the moon! Our little bub is due June 2017 and I am so impatient to get the next six months over with so we can meet him or her! I'm so happy to be able to finally share this with everyone - I'm the worst at keeping secrets and surprises, so the last two months have basically consisted of me sitting on my hands and trying not to blurt it out in an Instagram caption. It's been SO hard not to shout it from the rooftops! Now I'm so excited to share the ins and outs of my journey with you, while hopefully still staying true to my usual blog content - becoming a mum might be super fun but I promise to still be my usual grumpy self underneath ;)

Lots of love,

Dani xoxo

The festive season seemed to sneak up on me this year - overnight the red cups popped out and Christmas lights were switched on, but my own festive feelings had yet to catch up with the rest of the world.

Until Saturday just gone, when together with my mother-in-law and bestie, we wrapped ourselves up and set off in search of a magical workshop to rival Santa's!

Lily & May are an award-winning florist - just check out their fabulous instagram - who happen to run all sorts of wonderful classes in Essex, just up the road from me! Tucked away in between quietly winding roads and whispering trees, Claire and Jo welcomed six of us to their cabin to create some festive wreaths.

I was a bit nervous going in as my own DIY skills never amounted to much - as a child I used to make advent wreaths with my granny, pinching foliage from the neighbours and liberally sticking it into an oasis ring, but that was the extent of my experience - so when Claire handed us each a simple brass ring I couldn't for the life of me visualise how I was meant to turn it into a gorgeous, elaborate wreath! But we were shown how to wrap moss around the ring, padding it out with spruce (which smelled so Christmassy!), then adding a whole host of decorative flourishes to make each wreath truly personalised and perfect.






And I have to say, I'm quite proud of my gold-themed creation! I chose to add some spiky leaves (I forget the name of the tree...), with ferns dotted around the outside to give it a wild, natural look; then I added (real!) gold apples, pine cones, rosehip, cinnamon to make it smell gorgeous, and finished it off with some sparkly ribbon. You can spray it with glitter as well, or add in your own decorations at any time.







The workshop was such a lovely experience - we spent 3 hours working on our wreaths, lights twinkling around us, Christmas music playing in the background, and a much-welcomed break for tea and cake halfway through! We left feeling so festive and happy with our creations - despite not having a proper front door to put mine on (I live in a flat and these wreaths are just too heavy to hang on an adhesive hook) I've placed it above my balcony door where it adds the perfect Christmassy touch to our living room.

The whole thing cost £55 but you can reuse the moss wreath - just remove your decorations and let it dry out somewhere warm, then spritz with water when you're ready to create a new wreath - perfect! Lily & May do spring workshops too - I actually think these would be brilliant for a birthday or a hen party with a twist, as the classes are so much fun and quite relaxing!

Love Dani
xoxo

Yesterday I let some of my thoughts on recent political events tumble out my head and on to this blog. As always, it felt cathartic but also I felt as though I was merely skimming the surface of everything that doesn't quite sit right with me now the world has tilted a different way.

Over the last couple of days I've been so grateful to see other bloggers tackling the topic of Trump's impending presidency, and as always they've done so with grace and the kind of eloquence I can only admire.

I rounded a couple of my favourites up for Twitter earlier today, but Twitter moves so quickly and in my haste I also forgot to tag the writers involved. So to keep a record of their thoughts, and to share them with you, here are some of my most-admired reads of the last week.

1 - Lauren at Britton Loves - CHANGE
2 - Emma Gannon - MESSY THOUGHTS ABOUT A MESSY ELECTION
3 - Stephanie DJL - HOW TO CHANGE THE WORLD
4 - Thoroughly Modern Millennial - WHAT COMES NEXT
5 - Rhyme & Ribbons - TRYING TO MAKE SENSE OF THIS ELECTION
6 - Lumiere & Lens - AFTER THE ELECTION
7 - Fleur's Makeup Box - TODAY AND THE US ELECTIONS
8 - Tapeparade - PRESIDENT TRUMP, BREXIT & ISOLATION

If you've come across any must-reads, please share!

Or if you've had it up to here with the state of the world and need something to lift your spirits (assuming the John Lewis advert has failed you), the following posts might help. Jemma reminds us of a whopping 43 happy things, Rosie has written a beautiful and heartfelt post on motherhood, and Lima brings light to the world through the medium of highlighter.

Much love to you all,

Dani xoxo

Another week, another shockwave rippling through what's left of 2016.

I don't think many people outside the US expected Trump to take the presidency on Tuesday night, but here we are. I know I certainly didn't. I also know none of my friends or social media circle expected it.

And therein lies the problem, I think.

We live in little bubbles, safe havens constructed by carefully curated social media feeds. This became increasingly obvious following Brexit, where I was not the only person utterly flummoxed as to how Leave triumphed, when 90% of the people I engaged with on a daily basis were firmly pro-Remain. It's happened again in the US election and I've read countless posts from people who just didn't see it coming, because they're not exposed to "the other side".

How are we supposed to see the other side? It's easy to dismiss them as racist bigots, but in doing so aren't we perpetuating this sense of "the other" - the same way they like to blame groups or minorities for all ills in the world?

I grew up in a fairly liberally-minded family - we were encouraged to think for ourselves and form our own opinions. As a mixed-race child it never occurred to me to judge anyone by their skin colour; surrounded by women to look up to, I never felt the need to degrade other women based on their gender or looks. I was raised a Catholic but we were taught to accept other religions as equals, and when I think back to the decade I spent going to church the biggest lesson I took away from that was to treat people the way you'd like to be treated - i.e with respect, kindness and compassion.

I'm not religious anymore, but I think that message still stands.

Look, I'm not perfect and will never claim to be. I can be selfish, blind, stupid and prejudiced all at once. I know I can be a snob and I know that I can view the world from a relatively privileged position, and not understand why other people don't think the way I do. That's how I've lived for the past 28 years.

I think it's time to change. It's naive to think "why can't we just all get along?" but I do wonder if maybe we need to communicate more. I'd actually like to engage with people who hold opposing views, I'd like to hear where people come from and why they see the world the way they do. I want to understand their viewpoint. I can't promise I will agree, because my core values are to accept people as they are without discrimination based on faith, sexuality, race or any of the other defining qualities that seem to arouse such hatred throughout the world. This is how I try to live my life. But I'm aware that fear and uncertainty can breed all manner of unpleasant opinions, and unfortunately, for the moment it feels like they are gaining momentum across the world.

It's hard to figure out where we go from here. I personally think more governments should be held accountable for creating a sense of division, and our politicians need to show more willingness to work alongside one another. People of influence will continue to speak out against issues they disagree with, but what about us regular people? All we can do really is try to understand one another, and try to respect one another. The world might feel particularly dark this week but as Barack Obama said, the sun will keep rising, day after day - and people will continue to do good in spite of what the polls might tell you. In the 24 hours that have passed since the US vote, I've witnessed a man donating the coat off his back to Wrap Up London. I saw a woman run across a busy road to give a homeless man some food. I've seen hundreds of people online, sending messages of love and compassion. Let's keep a positive momentum going, and see where it takes us.

Last weekend I nipped back home for a couple of days, to relax, catch up on doctor's appointments and see friends. Sadly, the latter did not take place thanks to my body deciding to shut down as soon as I stepped off the plane, so my days were spent curled up under a blanket with tea, or venturing down the road with Molly for a blessedly short walk.

When I think of autumn in Luxembourg, I think of seeing the country for the first time, aged 3. I remember snippets of our first visit here - peanut butter sticking to the roof of my mouth as we zipped around town in our hired car - the taste of the milk, unpasteurised and unfamiliar - but most of all, I remember the leaves turning.

The forests aflame, from brightest orange to softest brown.

Mists rising across the valley, resting in the tops of the trees.





The autumn colours are late this year, but still pretty enough for me to get my camera out when driving to and from the airport. My mum indulged me by taking us up past the apple orchards in our village, where they hold an annual fest with sparkling juice and crumbly apple pastries. Sadly we were a week too late but maybe next year...?








When the season turns I always feel a little bit down, a little bit poorly. So I try my best to focus on the beauty that can still be found in nature - the leaves, the misty mornings, the sunlight trying to peek through clouds. It's hard knowing that months of darkness stretch out ahead, but looking back at snapshots like these do help to feel better at times.

Love Dani xoxo

I've been thinking a lot about mental illness recently. Well, if I'm honest, I've been thinking about it most of my life. But over the last few months in particular, I've viewed it from a different perspective.

As I move towards my thirties I find my mindset changing a little every day. I'm a bit calmer, a bit more self-assured. I don't beat myself up as much for carrying extra weight or for not looking like girls in magazines. I don't care so much if people don't like me; I don't feel the need to be liked. I have my people, my loved ones, and that's enough for me.

It hasn't always been the case.

For much of the last decade I have been what you might call a high-functioning depressive. I'm not sure where it stems from - I think it could be genetic, it could be a chemical imbalance, it could be a myriad of little things falling into place alongside my need to overachieve, to avoid failure, to put pressure on myself to be perfect. I don't attribute it to any one event in my life as on the whole I think I'm quite a happy person and have had quite a privileged life. But sometimes none of that matters, when the illness decides to take you down with it.

For a long time I thought I was being a drama queen. For a long time I thought it was just general moodiness. But I look back now at times when I shut myself away, when I refused to leave my home for two months, when even at university when I was at my happiest academically, I still couldn't bring myself to go out with friends some nights. I'd cancel longstanding plans in favour of hiding in my room and crying without really knowing why. The panic attacks on the way to work, the times when night after night, I'd cry myself to sleep and wake up the next day, feeling unable to lift the duvet off, let alone climb out of bed.

All of this happened in tandem with some of the happiest and proudest moments of my life - graduating from university, getting engaged, buying our first property, planning our wedding. On the outside, I was functioning just fine. I was going out, going to work, living a relatively normal life. But then there were the parts only my closest loved ones could see, when the veneer I constructed for myself fell apart. The evening before the wedding, for example, I had a terrible anxiety attack. I was surrounded by family who had travelled for hours to be with me and I had to tell them all to leave. I screamed at them until they backed out the door. I didn't sleep that night. I dread to think of the grief I've given Jon over the years as he bore the brunt of my moods.

What can you do in situations like this? It took a long time for me to admit that things weren't working and even longer for me to drum up the courage to visit my GP. I tried medication for a little while but it gave me heart palpitations which in turn caused more anxiety. This was disappointing, as I know so many people have had success with it, but it was worth a try. I tried for a long time to convince myself to see a counsellor, but experiences as a teenager had really put me off. I took up yoga, I re-evaluated my sleeping habits, I tried to be more mindful about the food I was eating. I had reiki, I used different breathing techniques, I looked for accounts from others suffering the same. I learned to control it for short periods of time but always felt as though my defences were weak and due to break at any time.

A lot of this is subjective - it will differ from person to person and I can only speak from my experiences, but in the end it was something so seemingly innocuous that helped me to feel a little more like myself.

You might have seen a spate of reports in the news over the last week about the Pill and the effects it can have, particularly relating to depression. I read this piece in The Guardian and so much of it rang true for me, I felt the need to talk about it. In February this year, I came off the Pill after taking it for 8 years. I did this partially because I'd just had surgery, had ran out of pills and couldn't face dragging myself to the GP for a prescription; and partially because I was having odd pains and wanted to see if the Pill was affecting me in that way.

Eight months on, I haven't had a single panic attack.

Eight months on, I haven't needed a single sick day for my mental health.

I'm not naive enough to think I am magically cured, and I still have days where I feel the depression rearing its ugly head. The crucial difference for me is that I've started seeing it as something to be managed. I've taught myself to recognise the signs and look after myself accordingly. If I need to cancel plans and take time for myself, I do. I'm trying to feel less guilty about it, because it's a condition. It is nothing to feel guilty about. It is nothing to feel ashamed about. It's a part of me, it's a part of my life, but I don't want it to rule my life. I'll treat it like any other physical condition I've had; like a bad period, or a bout of flu, if I feel the depression coming on, I'll give myself the care I need.

Today is World Mental Health Day. If you've suffered, or think you may be suffering, take a minute to look after yourself. Take a minute to breathe, and remind yourself it isn't a reflection on you. Depression does not define you. Asking for help does not make you weak. If you had flu, you'd look after yourself. If you had an infection you'd go to the doctor. Mental health is just as important as your physical health, if not more so - as it can impact on your physical health too. If you've ever wondered about getting help or advice, please take the time to do so today.

Lots of love,

Dani
xoxo