It was the Equinox. Spring had returned from its confident march beyond the winter horizon, slipping back into its familiar cove. Crisp white snowdrops pressed against the blue expanse, the colours of the saltire blossoming under shards of light that swept triumphantly from a glittering, enthusiastic sun. As sunlight gave way to a pinky dusk… Continue reading Aye Write! The Books That Made Nicola Sturgeon.
Margot McCuaig 