I had been planning to write about something else this month – something more politically charged. But then I had a bad day, one packed with frustrations, where you feel like you can’t do anything and nothing much gets done. So I thought I’d write about that instead.
It was a cold, bright Wednesday morning. If this was a novel, it would have been a gloomy and bitter day, the perfect scene for failure and disappointment. Instead the day was fresh, the sky was blue, and crispy leaves were strewn about the pavements: it resembled the backdrop I would choose for a happier experience.