November is a pretty significant one for me this year. Permit me, for a second, to discount the horrific shit-abyss into which this year has descended and focus on some positives. Firstly it was my mum’s 60th birthday. Secondly, my girl Bee celebrated her one year anniversary and a year since I got to stand up with her while she became a Mrs. It’s my last full month at work until halfway into next year and the last full month before I become a mum.

It’s also *gulp* the last month of my twenties.

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Which started, like so many eras, with too much make up and too much cheap alcohol.

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Forgive me internet, for I have sinned. It’s been nearly a month since my last pregnancy update. It seems like such a long time putting it that way- like, I’m nearly a whole month more pregnant. In my defence, I’ve been busy preparing for actually being a parent. This month has seen antenatal classes, birth plans, hospital bags, maternity meetings and baby showers. All things that make impending parenthood seem very, very real indeed.

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If only it could be more like a Pusheen autumn. I can dig scarves and conkers and sepia.

We’re now a week into autumn and the season feels like it’s still struggling to fit into itself. It’s that awkward transitional stage where the last of the sun makes surprise appearances (mostly while driving), it can be surprisingly warm but just when you think you’re in the clear, you get caught in the rain three times in one day.

Much like the Scottish autumnal weather, I’ve been having a personality crisis.

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When I got offered a new job, I thought it’d be a nice idea to take some time off in between to transition. Working a mix of day and late night shifts is tiring and if I took the week off before it, I could re-train my body into getting into the ol’ 9-5.

Of course, this didn’t happen.

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Last Thursday was the 1st of September, which heralded the start of autumn. Well, the meteorological start of autumn anyway. It might still be warm outside but the signs are telling me that my favourite season is upon us.

So why then has it felt like such a slog?

As much as I love autumn there’s always a strange tinge of sadness in the air. Maybe sadness isn’t the word, but there’s a weird melancholy that sweeps in and makes me feel a li’l more reflective than usual.

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