I miss the freckles

It’s true. Let me elaborate; I’m verrrry fair, and freckles emerge on the white canvas of my cheeks with the tiniest ray of sunlight.

I’m going to let you into a secret… I’m not sure where this post is going to go. This idea has been buzzing around my head since I posted my first blog last night, yet even as i type, I don’t know what I’m going to say. I mean I could talk about summer holidays and freedom etc etc etc, but no-one wants to hear that.


I’ve got it. Ok, now where do I start.

To me, the silly memories are the most important. Of course, you don’t value them as they happen, but (for me anyway) they are the things that stand out later on. If I’m having a rough day, or struggling with what to write for an essay, I’ll close my eyes and remember the sweet singing of the birds as I watch the sun set over the tennis club, or the smell of the barbecued sausages we ate on the beach in Wales, or even beaming as I pose for a photo with my friends on results day.

My point is something as small as a freckle is so so valuable. Looking at photos of foundation free me from the summer holidays, with wild hair and a mad splattering of freckles all over my face (except the left side of my forehead for some strange reason) makes me insanely happy. Everyone has these memories, and they would all seem utterly stupid to everyone other than you. To me, that’s what makes them so special

… and this has become the horrible cheese-fest i wanted to avoid :p

‘Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong!- I have as much soul as you,- and full as much heart!’-Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre


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