A question I’ve been asking myself this month: if you don’t have heaps of bubbles, a glass of prosecco and a good book—is there even any point having a bath? (Answer: nope.) As this October chill has crept in, and London has turned a little greyer and a little dirtier—my bubbles have become the highlight of my evenings. And these are the books I’ve been submerged in while I’m…submerged.
Being a feminist (which I hope you all are now after my post on why you should be) can be a bit of an emotional roller-coaster. Some days I feel like punching the air in triumph—and other days I feel like crying in my bedroom in despair. Two days ago, I went to see Suffragette and had the latter response—but I also read a book this month that gave me the former. Just to keep you on your toes, I’m going to tell you about both.
Continue reading “How to start a revolution from your bedroom”
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