Ode to a song (not really)


Ten years have elapsed since the release of this film.  It’s been ten years since I first heard Masakali and Rehna Tu on the radio whilst my exam preps were in full swing. Ten years since I wrote my board exams; ten years since I suffered my first panic attack and couldn’t make sense of it. I remember listening to Masakali and imagining myself dancing to its tune.  It reminded me of Delhi even though I had barely been to the city at the time. I remember Appa singing it loudly in the car. Sweet nostalgia.

It’s been ten years since I fell in love for the time first and had my heart broken too. Did I fall in love or was it just a teenage thing? I will never know. But it was sweet. It’s been ten years since I turned 16 and well, it wasn’t all that sweet. I wish I had loved myself more at the time. But, it’s been ten years since I took stock of my self-esteem and said goodbye to all the toxic influences from school.

It’s been ten years since I visited the States – my one and only trip to America. Ten years since I realized what strong ties of friendship actually meant. Yes, this year actually marks my tenth year of friendship with S. It’s been ten years since I first met P – it was the beginning of a long dramatic phase of my life.

It’s been ten years since I’ve had a year that stands out so clearly in my memories. Oh and ironically, I have never managed to catch this film in its entirety.

A change of thought

I’m sitting here in the computer lab, thinking about the school reunion slated this Sunday.  The distraction is real – I have actually minimized the dull terminal box with various scripts running on it. Fortunately,  I am seated away from my colleagues and I’m quite thankful that they won’t be able to steal surreptitious glances at my monitor.  Whew!

I feel guilty about wasting work hours over my blog that has been neglected for quite sometime now – possibly more than a year. But, the only solution for my mind-diarrhea is to excrete it here on this white space. Apologies for my graphic choice of words!

I don’t know what made me RSVP to the event. When I first saw the page on Facebook, I promptly scrolled past it, not bothering to read details. When it popped up again on my feed a few days later, I went ahead and clicked on it. A bunch of batch-mates I barely know had liked the only post displayed on the page.  I contemplated on ticking the box titled “Interested” on an event poll located below the post but then decided against it. It would make sense to first check with three of my friends who have stuck with me since school-days.

Pat came the reply on the WhatsApp group that we are a part of .

“Nope. I’d give this a miss,” said S.

I get her discomfort on attending social gatherings full of several unknown or barely-known faces. That I wanted to attend this reunion in spite of having been a nobody in school did seem unusual. When A declined my offer, I re-considered my decision. In fact, talks about the reunion triggered some unpleasant school memories. Clearly, this was a bad idea.

I had almost forgotten about it until I casually let the question slide into a conversation with another friend who happens to be my schoolmate. Her reaction was equally predictable, considering the uncanny similarities in our school experiences. Being the awkward background characters, we had watched the popular kids bask in the glory of the limelight. Jeez, I sound bitter. I guess the onus had equally been on us to take charge of ourselves and participate in school events. A part of me would have definitely enjoyed the adulation of teachers and friends, had I not been crippled by self-doubt for the most part of my teenage. Our school did propagate a toxic competitive culture amongst us girls.  All in all, our discussion had me convinced that the reunion would unnecessarily engender distressing thoughts about the past.

Fast forward to last night, I stumbled upon that intrusive page on my feed again. This time I lingered. The list of attendees had markedly increased and it mainly comprised acquaintances and some unfamiliar names – those from the Boys’ Section, the ones I have no idea about to this date. The Boys’ Section has always been the Forbidden Forest of our school. There were strict rules to be followed and consequences that rule-breakers had to face. From what I recollect, a bunch of girls would stealthily hang out with members of this region in undisclosed locations. Back then, Facebook was the only portal into such meetings and parties which were rather fancy affairs.  These were the ways of the elite I suppose, as most of the partakers weren’t financially inconvenienced. Those were my days of being a novice at social media stalking or researching as I termed it. I would scroll through scores of pictures of my posh batch-mates in their cutesy dresses, tank tops and slim fit jeans, sipping juice, hand in hand with pubescent boys. A part of me desperately craved to suspend my middle-class values, orthodontic braces and bell-bottom jeans and embrace this hip lifestyle with cute boys, indulgent parents and copious monthly allowance.  My life seemed to follow the trajectory of a typical American teenage drama that would ultimately culminate in a big prom. No guesses for what would have happen there – I would meet the love of my life!  Little did I know that I would voluntarily skip the prom aka my tenth grade after-party, only to meet my love (an alumnus of the Boys’ Section) six years later at a party, albeit one that was low-key.

Naturally, given my expertise in social media groundwork,  I sneaked up on some profiles to familiarize myself with new faces. My boyfriend was quite unhelpful with divulging information about his school days because to him those held no significance whatsoever. My handsome K is very much like me in this aspect – he was a reticent kid.  In a way, this whole exercise did seem absurd and unfruitful. I don’t comprehend my ferreting tendencies and curiosity about individuals who were (and probably are) unaware of my existence. Anyway, after a quick mental debate I messaged Sa asking her to accompany me to the venue Sunday. She miraculously agreed and I finally had my way. For all my unsavory opinions on school, the hypocrite in me does want to be there to gauge how everyone has turned out to be. To see whether the bully is still a bully, whether the all-rounder is still ruling the roost.

Ever since I’ve impulsively RSVP’ed, my mind has been fraught with a flurry of anxious thoughts and questions, the first one being, why in the world am I so compelled to attend this reunion? K being a man of few words, puts it succinctly – it’s just a matter of one night that will be forgotten within a week. He is absolutely correct, but I’m never going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he is right.

I have already begun to rummage through my cupboard to assemble an outfit that will suit the occasion which quite obviously reeks of sophistication. Maybe I’ll go with soft smoky eyes to complement my look. Heck, my make-up skills are quite good. This anxiety associated with choosing a chic attire is way too familiar. How many times had I questioned my sartorial choices during them school days?


Blast from the past : This was snapped right before my school farewell party

So why am I attending this reunion?

Sa echoes my sentiments – “Hahaha, curiosity and to rub our happiness in people’s faces.”

Do I really want to rub my happiness in people’s faces and be vindicated? There’s no discrete answer to this. My mother is of the opinion that my confidence waned after having joined this school. Back in Bombay, I was a carefree kid who studied in a simple co-educational environment. There had been no pressure to perfect my English speaking skills or to ogle at boys through rose-tinted glasses. I was good at art and music. I could wear anything and not feel shy about my lanky body. However, everything changed after we moved to Pune.

To make up for my lack of participation in cultural programs and debates, I would cook-up scenarios in my head. Usually, I would visualize myself to be quite popular, extremely smart, displaying my talent in music, dance, debate, you name it, before a huge audience. I imagined myself to be an ace guitarist. Teachers liked me and spoke highly of me to my parents. In this parallel world, I was a part of the elite group with friends from the forbidden part of the school.

Of course, the reality was anything but pleasant. I suffer from mild social anxiety, the roots of which trace back to high school. I was used to being overlooked by my own classmates, to being one of the last ones to be picked in the basketball team. My seniors in the school bus were bullies and had no shame in “taking my case”.  My grades dropped when I was in the tenth grade. I could have never imagined that I would start my own blog because I sucked at writing essays.  Heck, I doubt if my teachers remember me. Aye, I have gone ahead and thrown myself a pity party here. But some background is necessary to show you the absurdity of my decision to attend this party on Sunday.

The answer to my question is glaringly obvious. I’m dying to see where I stand amongst these girls and boys – now women and men. To prove to myself that I’m somebody and that I will be no longer intimidated by them.

It’s strange. I am, of course, in a much better place now as compared to where I was aged fifteen. I am grateful for the people in my life, the ones who know me in and out and take me the way I am. I know that I don’t need to prove a point to anybody.

You may think I’m being petty and counter-productive, as this may only fuel my insecurities further. There are bound to be people who are doing better than me. And not all my school-mates were terrible. I can still change my mind and cancel plans. Why go out of my way to prove a point to those who have no inkling whatsoever about my intentions?

Figuring myself out is so hard sometimes. But it’s okay, I’ll go with my impulses for once.

Curiosity may have killed the cat but I’m willing to risk it this time.


Circa 2016 : The lasting effects of puberty. It did me a good turn.




I won an Award!

So I should have posted this months ago but time is something that has slipped away faster than usual, lately.  My increased work-load and the mayhem of temporarily moving to another apartment (since our place will be getting revamped over the next few months) has barely given me time to blog. Anyway, enough of the prelude…let me dive straight into this –

*drum roll* !!!!!!

So the rules are as follows

1. Add the award logo in your post

– Yup done that.

2. List all the rules.

– Okay this one’s pretty obvious.

3. Thank whoever nominated you and leave a link to their blog.

– Thank you Outside Perception for nominating me for the Mystery Blogger Award! It was quite unexpected to be honest.

4. Tell your readers three things about yourself

– I’ll mention stuff that I haven’t blogged about, yet. Plus, I don’t know if everyone who knows me personally is aware of this so here goes –

One – I do dabble in poetry and short stories occasionally, but I’m conscious of posting them on a social platform. I neither indulge in metaphors nor adhere to the rules of poetry writing. I think my skills definitely need some polishing.

Two – I love dancing and watching good choreographies. But then again, I’m really self- conscious whilst dancing before an audience. I don’t know if I’m good at it.

Three – I obsess over neat handwriting. I tend to have a good opinion of those who can write neatly and legibly.

5. Nominate readers and notify them.

I can’t nominate OP again but this is a good opportunity to mention some great blogs I stumbled upon during the A to Z Blogging Challenge. I hereby nominate

Simply Marquessa – Hands down, her theme won my heart. Marquessa’s theme “Hawaii” was based on Kate, the protagonist and her journey towards self-discovery post a fatal diagnosis. What appealed to me most about Marquessa’s style of writing was its lucidity and the elements of Hawaii cleverly stitched in the plot.

A few drops of ink – Cynthia’s theme “When Words make our Worlds” was an absolute delight to read. I have added quite a few non-English words  that don’t have an English equivalent to my arsenal. 100 points for an innovative and informative theme!

Milly’s Guide – Lauren’s theme was about mental health, and I found her posts to be comforting on days I felt gloomy and low. Thank you, Lauren.

A Journey to Courageous Living –  Andrea took the bold step of facing her fears, this April. I loved her theme for its individuality and positivity. More power to you, Andi!

My Random Ramblings    – Tiny tales that were lucid and impressive. Kudos to Shweta!

Keith’s ramblings – Light-hearted, quirky and endearing, Keith’s spin on “Amble Bay” made me feel as though I was a part of this quaint, coastal village with its diverse characters.

6. Link back to the creator of the award.

Thank you Okoto Oke Enigma! Awards are an impetus to writing stuff that has the power to connect with people.

7. Ask your nominees any 5 random questions of your choice!

Here’s what Outside Perception asked me

Tell us about something that you used to believe only to find out it was incorrect?
I used to believe that E.T. was real. Yep, I have a strange fascination for aliens.

If given the choice between Cake or Death… what would it be?
Cake of course! No two ways about that.

What was your imaginary friends name and what special skills did they have?
My imaginary friend was Rahul, except he was pretty normal. Rahul was my favourite patient when I played “Doctor Doctor” with my doctor set toys!

What is your all time most watched movie?
by Vikas Bahl, starring Kangana Ranaut. I have watched this movie a hundred thousand times and I know all the dialogues by heart!

When you have downtime… (Laugh.. yah I know) Ok, If you ever had downtime… What would you do? 
First of, I’m not too well-versed with American slang..so um I am assuming downtime refers to free time? Oops. So whenever I unwind, I usually play my guitar or read a book. Or watch canine videos on Instagram.

And that’s a wrap!

Here are some questions for my nominees

  • What’s the most embarrassing thing that has happened to you?
  • Which songs feature in your “Guilty Pleasures” play list?
  • What is that one weird thing you are afraid of?
  • You are forced to spend a whole day with that one person you can’t tolerate. How will you spend it productively without losing your cool?
  • You have been asked to direct your favourite actor. Who will it be and what will be the plot-line?

I look forward to your response!


Z is for Zufriedenheit

This is a word I stumbled upon while reading ‘The Book Thief’. It’s a German word which means happiness and satisfaction.

Is there anyone in this world who hates feeling happy? I think not.

As easy as it seems, happiness can’t be always sought easily. Once found, it slips away as quickly as a fistful of sand. Yet, the beauty of zufriednheit lies in its transience. It reminds me to not take it for granted. Moreover, were it not for darkness, one wouldn’t know what light is. Happiness holds no meaning without it’s counterpart. So make the most of it while it lasts.

I may not be happy in all aspects of my life, but I’m glad that I took it upon myself to finish the A to Z Blogging Challenge. I don’t regret having chosen this theme i.e. ‘The A to Z of some of my favorite things’. Writing about stuff that makes me happy, has indeed made me appreciate and love myself a little more. It has made me love my blog a little more. I have made new friends over the past one month (more of that in my next post). I am inspired to write more.

And that’s a wrap for April 2017, folks! See you next year!​

Z is for Zufriedenheit

P.S : I’ll be posting a Reflections post in the coming week and talk about the blogs and themes that appealed the most to me this year

Y is for saying “Yes I can do it!”

I know I fumbled right in the middle of the challenge, but my circumstances were unavoidable. I managed to catch up by cheating a little…no wait, A LOT. I combined multiple posts into one.  I apologize for that. But truth be told, I did it for a reason.

I was determined to not give up. Participating in the A to Z Challenge has been more about me rather than the former. Last week, after having skipped four letters at a stretch, I was overcome by an impulse to quit. What was the point, I thought to myself. But there was a point – quitting the challenge would have meant reverting to my old habits of leaving things half-done. I would have probably strayed from writing, yet again. And I’m glad I fought down this urge.

Having suffered from bouts of low-esteem in the past, I barely found myself saying “I can do it”. I was apprehensive about putting myself in the front and handling any sort of responsibility. Fortunately, several factors have helped me cope with this negativity, allowing me to trust my instincts and capabilities. I love sensing the gush of confidence.

I have one more post to write. And you know what I’m going to say..

I can do it! I’m almost there!

Y is for saying “Yes I can do it!”


W and X is for Walks and XO with Mom

My mother has been a working woman from as long as I can remember.  When I was a kid, I used to eagerly await spending our evenings together. We would go for strolls on the sidewalk outside our residential society, my tiny hand wrapped around her pinky finger. I would recount my activities for the day and bombard her with questions. She had the knack for making up stories that kept me engrossed until my father returned from work as well. This was our way of spending quality time with each other.

Walks with my mother are something I look forward to till date. It hasn’t only been about the walks; it’s about the conversations we’ve had whilst we walked, be it anywhere –  in and around our locality, on the beach, in a park, on MG road, down the quaint streets of Switzerland and the list goes on. Walks with my mother are about getting her undivided attention, updating her about the current happenings in my life, occasional complaints about an annoying friend, confessions, healthy debates, and rants about being stressed. Post a great session, I feel rejuvenated and refreshed. I love early morning walks as they set my mood for the day. When I walk in sunshine with my most favourite person in the entire world, my mood shines like the sun as well.

This brings me to the next thing I love about my mother. Amma has been the quintessential mommy, never holding back on physical affection. She showers us (my sister and I) with hugs (X) and kisses (O). I presumed XO was the motherly norm until the topic cropped up while conversing with a friend. He confessed that his mother didn’t indulge in hugs or kisses. I was incredulous. All you mothers out there, y’all know what the take-home message is.

I’d like to mention that I’ve never been embarrassed about openly hugging my mother. I love pulling her cheeks. Her hugs and kisses make me feel secure and loved. They ease all traces of tension and stress that burden my mind. No matter how dejected  I feel, a squeeze from my mother is all I need to lift my spirits. In fact, the earliest memories I have of her, is of the times she would hum a lullaby whilst tucking me into bed.

What is life without walks with Mom and her warm hugs and big kisses?

W and X is for Walks and XO with Mom

My theme for the A to Z Blogging Challenge is the A to Z of some of favourite things. I just have two posts remaining!





S is for Surprises followed by T, U and V

Yup, I’m stuck far behind. Ideally, I should be out of this challenge. But I promised myself I will complete it no matter what. So here goes –

I love good surprises, the birthday kind and otherwise. Plus, I also love surprising my favourite people and close ones.  The smiles and amazement writ on their faces are totally worth going that extra mile.

So here’s the surprise. I dedicate this post to my father who celebrated his birthday yesterday. Though my theme for the A-Z challenge is about some of my favourite things, I’m gonna tweak it a bit for the purpose of this post. This is going to be about some of our favourite things aka food items.

T is for ‘Thaiyar Sadam’

Most south-Indians are big on curd rice. Yup, ‘thaiyar’ is for curd and ‘sadam’ is for rice.  It may seem bland and lackluster at first glance, but it’s the perfect fix for upset stomachs, hot summer nights, and for them lazybones who can’t be bothered to cook something elaborate. However, when it comes to my dad and I, the sheer simplicity and goodness of thaiyar sadam beckons to us on any given day.  A small dollop of urrugai (pickle) usually complements it; the former could be substituted by morru molgai (dried chillies marinated in salted butter milk),  or sometimes a ladle of vathai kozhambu (a spicy tamarind gravy) poured into a small cavity that is smack dab in the middle of a mound of thaiyar sadam .  Our weekend lunches are punctuated with the sounds of us relishing this delightful dish. Thaiyar sadam defies the rules of fine dining. Bye forks and spoons. It’s finger-licking delicious. Mmmm.

U is for Upma

To be honest, I have acquired a taste for this dish over the years. My dad, however, is an upma loyalist. Upma has its variants – rice, rava (semolina), bread, chapati (Indian bread), idli  and semiyan (vermicelli). He loves the traditional preparation comprising roasted rava cooked to perfection, with or without additional vegetables. I, on the other hand, prefer vermicelli to semolina. I love the flavour of onions and peanuts in upma. And of course, coconut chutney is a must! Upma and chutney are worthy of MasterChef. My dad could eat upma all week without tiring of its taste. To me home is where my dad sits guzzling upma for breakfast with a look of intense contentment on his face.

V is for Vadaam

When I think of vadaams, the picture of my father hungrily munching on them, pops in my head. This is usually followed by my mother snatching the box away from him and scolding him for being unable to contain himself before lunch; there’s also some mumbling about cholesterol and high blood pressure. I can hardly blame him. The aroma of fried vadaams wafts into the nooks and crannies of our house, luring him (and me as well) into the kitchen. Vadaams are not an everyday thing, and hence take precedence over chips. Yes, I said it. That’s the power of crispy south-Indian rice fritters. Tamil weddings, Diwali celebrations and possibly any Tamilian family event are incomplete without vadaams.

And that’s a wrap.

There’s a reason why they say my father and I are similar.

Happy Birthday, Appa!

S is for Surprises followed by T, U and V

My theme for the A-Z Blogging Challenge is ‘The A to Z of some my favourite things’. Stay tuned for more posts, this April!

R is for Reminiscing

“Remember the time when N sprayed YOUR deodorant into her eyes? Rather than crying in pain, she was crying about getting yelled at, by you!”

“Remember the time we made a gigantic sixteenth birthday card for you? Well, we did do a poor job of hiding it from you but you loved it anyway. ”

“Do you remember our first day in the University? I thought I’d be sitting alone until I bumped into you! We trudged all the way to the cafeteria whilst it was raining cats and dogs. We had a great conversation on the way. It was as if we had known each other forever.”

“Back in fourth grade, you were the girl who kept making a beeline to the bathroom in the midst of our examination. It was hilarious. Little did I know, you were down with diarrhea. Oops!”

“Who would have thought that the pale girl with two braids would be a badass punk lover? That was some transition. Puberty is a good thing, after all. ”

“We didn’t complete our Biology journals that night before the exam. We spoke about boys.”

“I think you looked ridiculously cute and hot at the same time, that evening. Is that even possible?”

“Remember the time when you and N believed in aliens? You were obsessed with ‘Koi Mil Gaya’ .

“I was totally obsessed with your handwriting. How could a sixth-grader write so neatly?”

“That performance was a failure. We totally sucked as a band! I wonder how the audience tolerated us. Good times, nonetheless.”

Happy flashbacks are worth experiencing, time and again.

R is for Reminiscing.

My theme for the A-Z Blogging Challenge is ‘The A to Z of some my favourite things’. Stay tuned for more posts, this April!

P and Q are for Photographs and Quotes

Frozen memories – the phrase that comes to my head when I browse through a photo album.

Now mind you, when I talk about photographs and quotes, I don’t mean cookie-cutter selfies with captions that make no sense! FYI, I absolutely loathe those. I’m talking about pictures so complete in themselves that they can narrate stories.

The Internet and social media is always abuzz with click-baits on  ‘good’ photography. Photography could be an art. To some, it’s a skill that can be honed. To some, it is intuitive.  And then there are some to whom the technicalities matter – composition, lighting, depth of field etc.

What does it mean to me?

Oftentimes, I have stumbled upon some beautiful photo-blogs, which make me pause and take notice of the details incorporated. These are the pictures that stir forgotten book quotes to my mind. The reverse holds true as well. I have lost count of the times I have perused through the pages of a novel, associating the imagery with a remarkable photograph I must have encountered somewhere.  In my opinion, that’s the power of good photography.

My tryst with photography began when I was eighteen. I am not a photographer by any means. I started off with a simple point-and-shoot camera, its maximum resolution being 2 MP. That’s right. That’s waaayy below today’s selfie standards. Though the pictures are cringe worthy, back then, my modest camera gave me the impetus to dabble with different subjects. Soon I upgraded to another point-and-shoot before finally settling on my very own DSLR.

I have had friends who appreciate the photographs I click whilst some who consider my skills to be mediocre. To start with, I don’t know if I’m blessed with an eye for detail or perspective. But one thing’s for sure, capturing a good shot makes me happy.

Here are some personal favourites (sources are provided in the captions).


“After the night meal with his head on his granny’s lap, nestling close to her, Swaminathan felt very snug and safe in the faint atmosphere of cardamom and cloves. ‘Oh, Granny!’ he cried ecstatically. ‘You don’t know what a great fellow Rajam is.’ He told her the story of the first enmity between Rajam and Mani and the subsequent friendship.”

-R.K Narayan (Swami and his Friends )

Screenshot from 2017-04-21 12:07:13

Photo by Abhishek Solanki

“The train would reach Deoli at about five in the morning when the station would be dimly lit with electric bulbs and oil lamps, and the jungle across the railway tracks would just be visible in the faint light of dawn.”

-Ruskin Bond (The Night Train at Deoli)


Photo by coffeeforthemoon

“I love walking in the rain because no one can see me crying”
― Rowan Atkinson




Photo by Me!

“My grandmother, like everybody’s grandmother, was an old woman. She had been old and wrinkled for the twenty years I had known her.”
-Khushwant Singh (The Portrait of a Lady)

P and Q are for Photographs and Quotes

My theme for the A-Z Blogging Challenge is ‘The A to Z of some my favourite things’. Stay tuned for more posts, this April!

O is for Order

This post is a glimpse into the life of a control freak that’s me.

My dad loves tidying up the house to the extent of aggravating other members in his vicinity. The bed has to be immaculate, our cupboards uncluttered and the floor spotless. The word ‘filthy’ does not exist in his dictionary. My mother, unlike my dad, isn’t a stickler for cleanliness, but staunchly believes in orderliness. I have probably inherited both their traits; not only do I keep my room spic and span, but I’m also big on check-lists.

I’m quite particular when it comes to organizing my own stuff, right from my clothes and socks to my music play-lists and personal directories in my laptop. I cannot tolerate disarray or chaos. The satisfaction that sweeps over me after I clear up my study is unlike any other. I may hoard stuff, but I do know when to get rid of junk. Likewise, I don’t hold back when I’m in my best friend’s messy bedroom. That’s probably crossing the line, but okay, whatever. Talk about clutter sharpening one’s reflexes.

“Clutter is symptomatic of delayed decision making.”

– Cynthia Kyriazis

On a scale of 1 to 10, I would give my indecisiveness 6.  I deducted four points for my decent organizing capabilities that help me keep the former at bay.

I am also a lover of symmetry. These may seem like symptoms of OCD to you, but I can assure you I’m okay, you guys. I enjoy arranging items in order, my favorite being crayons and color pencils. The resulting color gradient is indeed quite gratifying! Besides this, I like sorting cutlery into sets. There’s nothing more pleasing than a table well-laid out with delicate glass bowls partnered with their corresponding plates. Sigh.

I have often wondered why I gravitate towards order and perfect proportions. Why does a photograph with good composition appeal to me so much? Why do I love henna designs with symmetrical motifs? Why am I always so hooked to well-arranged music?

The following quote probably attempts to answer my questions –

“I discovered that my obsession for having each thing in the right place, each subject at the right time, each word in the right style, was not the well-deserved reward of an ordered mind, but just the opposite: a complete system of pretense invented by me to hide the disorder of my nature.”

– Gabriel García Márquez

O is for Order

My theme for the A-Z Blogging Challenge is ‘The A to Z of some my favourite things’. Stay tuned for more posts, this April!