On this beautiful unexpectedly warm September’s day I left the house with a knot of despair bubbling up in my stomach. It grew and grew and even watching Squeak jump up and down in his pushchair as he saw a double decker bus couldn’t lift my spirits.
I felt every sad moment of my life as we walked past Marks and Spencer, offended by the sunlight streaming into my eyes.
I berated myself. I told myself nothing was really wrong. I let myself feel those insecurities which peck away at me when I’m less strong.
I sat down in the cafe. I ate a slice of cheesecake. That raspberry goodness, that crumbly delight. That cheesy creamy niceness sandwiched in the middle. Washed down with a cappuccino, GONE is my hopelessness. I am sparkly and light all over again.
Am I some sort of cheesecake addict, in need of regular doses? Maybe it’s a sugar thing, except I scoffed a bag of caramel crack a jacks before leaving the house.
Either way, my fruity flavoured life line, I shall not underestimate you again. 😎🍰☕️