I’ve always liked January.  I’m a little weird that way, and since my daughter was born in January 2014, I now feel a peculiar need to defend it, too.  I like the newness of it, and when it snows (which it did here in Glasgow in the 16th) it’s stunning.  Who couldn’t love all of that glittering white with the green boughs beneath?  It’s nearly the end of the month, and I have to admit, even I’m glad that February, with its slightly longer days, is nearing.  I often try to wake up by 6:30 (and every morning miss the days when this was not necessary), but when you wake up to pitch-black, it’s difficult to convince your body that it doesn’t need more sleep (and, very probably, it does).  As I write this, I’m waiting for my daughter to awake from her morning nap (lucky girl), and when she does, I’ll be onto my second shot of espresso.  My husband’s parents brought some Bourbon Espresso back from their recent trip to Madeira, so perhaps I’ll try that.  Though I’m really more of a champagne girl than a bourbon one …

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