Having moved back to Cambridgeshire after the end of university, I feel after the hard work and stress of the past half a year, and the procrastination-fuelled underachievement of the last few relaxed lazy weeks it’s time to get back to my roots and start doing something witchy.

I was living in the beautiful green countryside of west Wales, which is home to some of my favourite smells – the delicious fresh moist green smell, which I love above all others, the smell of rain on concrete, and the delicious musty fibreglassy smell of the student laundrette. However, living by the sea, at the bottom of a forest, and continual bike rides along crystal clear rivers I found it more difficult to spend time on my witchcraft because I was immersed in it every single day. Whenever I went anywhere I would always encounter something natural and gorgeous – what was the point of making a concerted effort at spirituality when the spiritual was all around me?

But, back home in the flat Fenlands, I always feel the urge to make an effort. It’s a combo of dull, flat farmland and being back in the landscape where all this witchy nonsense began. I am lucky enough to live opposite a gorgeous graveyard, where I like to hang out whenever I get the chance to be in nature, and my house has a lovely colourful garden with lots of flowerbeds. I even made an attempt at gardening yesterday.

So I have delved back into my books – particularly Priestess of Avalon, Priestess of the Goddess by Kathy Jones, The Healing Power of Faery by Edain McCoy and Goddess Initiation by Francesca de Grandis. Three of my favourites.