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I have always loved the slow, liminal days between Christmas and New Year. They are a time of gentle transition, a quiet breath as the year eases to its close, a space in which to reflect on the year gone by, and perhaps to set intentions for the year ahead.

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For twenty years now I’ve been crossing the channel to France to stay in my parent’s simple stone cottage in the Pays de la Loire. I visited first in my late teens, when days were leisurely, evenings were late and sleep was plentiful. Back then, my holiday always began in the Brittany Ferries bar. Nowadays, I travel

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As a young child, I grew up in Devon, on the edge of Dartmoor national park. Some of my earliest memories are of streams and moorland, woods and hollow trees. I sometimes feel as if that wildness became a part of who I am, of who I will always be. Over the Easter holidays, I

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