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  • I am really not a very happy bunny.
    I find myself being hit with fear.
    Punched.

    Running makes me think about all the good things in life.
    Everything about life.
    All the things that I want to do, want to see.
    There are many.

    I want to sleep in a business bod pod in Japan.
    I want to stay in the Ice Hotel in Switzerland, sleeping on reindeer fur.
    I want to float in blue sea. Proper bright blue sea, not grey water on the english coast.
    I want to be shipwrecked.
    I want to experience the Amish Country,
    and sing with children in an African orphanage.


    I want to have an immaculate white and silver penthouse flat in London.
    I want an incredibly cluttered and homey cottage in a tiny postcard village. I would grow honeysuckle round my front door and sweetpeas in the back garden.
    I want a campervan and an attractive bearded man, and we would live and travel with no rules.
    I want to own a vineyard in the Loire Valley,
    and a open plan apartment in Italy.
    I want to live by the hot, white sand in Australia.

    I want to be able to ice-skate properly.
    I want to learn to play the violin.
    I want to jump and somersault like olympic gymnasts.
    I want to ride a motorbike,
    and nip around on a pink vespa.
    I want to be on the cover of Vogue.

    I want three children.
    or I want 4 children with twins in the middle.
    I want them to go to the local primary and then a private school.
    or travel with us in the campervan.
    or live in Tuscany and they would grow up with singing incy wincy spider in italian.
    I have many names for them,
    traditional,
    biblical
    bohemian,
    names after flowers, and rivers and places,
    names after treasured people,
    but they can't have them all.

    I want to be an Editor of a big magazine and dress in Prada and McQueen.
    I want to pole dance.
    I want to be a writer of novels and childrens books and newspaper columns.
    I want to be a book reviewer.
    I want to go to all night raves in Ibiza, wearing denim shorts and sipping vueve cliquoet through straws.
    I want to tan on a boat in Cannes.
    I want to have five Half Moon Bakeries.
    I want Jackernuts to be global. Bigger than Kit-Kat.
    I want to be a stay-at-home mum while my husband goes out to work.

    I want so much, and more, but barely any of it is achievable, possible even.
    I have no money and not enough time. However way I look at it, there is never going to be enough time.
    There will always be things that I will miss. Things I have to sacrifice.
    It makes me smile when I think of all these things and cry when I realise I can't do them.
    And then I'm back home, pushing peas round my plate,
    and I think about
    how I am wasting my days.
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