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So, the Christmas season is upon us.*
Shops are open for longer, the Germans have invaded our high streets with their markets, and Noddy Holder has awoken from his 11-month slumber to the sound of his royalty cheque being posted through the front door.
In this comfortingly weird corner of the Internet that I have fashioned for myself, I have always been wary of merely keeping a public journal.
I am more interested in surreal monologues on Scottish tennis players or absurd poetry about baked goods and American political leaders than in pouring out my heart or sharing my day-to-day mundanity for its own sake.
Last week marked a year since I was last able to sing properly.
It has been far and away the most frustrating year of my life.
At 23 years of age, I am very much aware that my experiences on this planet are inherently limited. Much to learn, I still have. So I try to hold things lightly and keep an open mind.
Nonetheless, there are some things that I feel I have learnt in my short journey thus far. Nuggets of wisdom. Fish fingers of insight. Battered mantras, if you will.
I recently rediscovered my love for the story of Jonah.
You probably all know it. You may well have dismissed it as a kid’s story where a guy runs away from God and gets swallowed by a fish. One of our Lord’s most bizarre disciplinary decisions, I think you will agree. Sending a fish to swallow an errant prophet, and consequently to vomit him out when he had had some time to think about what he had done. Like some sort of spiritual naughty step. But with more fish guts.