It’s been a tough year. I have not loved living in London and I’ve missed New York and Cape Town tremendously. And, while I realise that I cannot blame everything on London itself, the fact that the rain is pummeling down and the wind is howling as I type this – and I have the heat on in September! – does not help with the case of ‘no-love-lost’ between this city and I!

And not being happy in the place you live in has an effect on everything else around you. All of a sudden you no longer like people around you – and even yourself – that much anymore. And things that used to be fun stop being fun. Like writing, for me.

But then, when your two year mourning period starts coming to an end, (it will only be two years since we left NYC in February, but I’m putting the cart before the horse again…) you start seeing things a little differently. Slowly. Just here and there. Little sparks that make you think that everything will be alright. And then, slowly, you start feeling better and, before you know it, I guess everything will be alright. All you need is one little spark.

What counts as a ‘spark’ in your book?