I Object!

Objection, Your Honour! 

Strike that from the record. 

That’s my feeling about yesterday. 

It was a no good, very bad, waste of time kind of day. 

I was subpoenaed to be at the Magistrates Court to give evidence about a car accident I saw last year. Fair enough, happy to oblige, nice views. 


The day went to hell in a hand basket, fast. 

Waiting around to give evidence is boring. Waiting around with clearly agitated people, people talking on their phones using their outdoor under a waterfall voices, with morning television droning overhead… beyond boring and veering into aggravating. 

9:30 becomes 10:30, then 11:30, then 12:30 and I’m starting to think the chairs in court waiting room were made by the same people who design emergency room chairs. Sure they look fancier, they’re upholstered, but the angle they’re on is set to backache. 

I found a better chair off in a corridor to nowhere, and at 1pm the barrister comes out of court and says they’re breaking for lunch and I’ll probably be called last on the list. Yay. Not. 

I go outside and join the throng of city workers, and find a nice spot for lunch. With half an hour still to kill, and several more hours of courtroom waiting room time looming, I go in search of a magazine. 

Big mistake. Huge. 

The tiny 7-ELEVEN doesn’t have a magazine rack I can see, so I do a lap of the store to check it’s not in a weird spot. Nope. No mags here. 

I’m walking past the cashier when the mat I’ve just stepped on, in my fab new Rivers boots, slips underneath me, and before you can cry “Timbeeerrrrrrr” I’m face down on the dirty floor of the 7-ELEVEN and my left knee is on fire. 

I lay there sobbing for a bit, and the manager and a few customers are over me in a flash, asking if I’m okay. 

I don’t know if I’m okay, I’m face down on the floor crying and in pain. Gimme a sec! 

I fumble around to an awkward sitting position, the manager calls an ambulance, blah blah blah it’s basically a nightmare. 

Can you get held in contempt of court from the floor of a convenience store? 

I’ll tell you one thing – people WILL step over a person splayed on the floor while they buy their soggy sandwiches and Red Bulls. Yep. People literally stepped over me so they wouldn’t have to take four steps in the other direction to leave the store. Shout out to those people, you suck. Majorly. 

More people asked if I was okay and smiled sympathetically than those who acted like turds, which was nice. 

Eventually the ambos arrived and together we hauled my bruised body off the floor. One of the ambos was, how shall we say, a bit of an arsehole. He was dismissive and rude, basically couldn’t wait to get away from me. Thanks fella, I appreciate the attitude. 

Having determined that I wasn’t busted, I got a lift the two blocks back to court, and the ambos dropped me off at the steps with two ice packs for my knee. 

Second pat down of the day – I can’t walk through metal detectors due to my pacemaker, and I hobbled back to the waiting area, with my leg up on a chair. 

Another 90 minutes ticks slowly by and I’m feeling worse. I have a bump over my left eye from the fall, so I decide to see if I can be excused and get the hell out of there. 

A few minutes later, the case I’ve been waiting to participate in all day is finalised, the guy who I reckon was in the wrong has won and we all get to leave. Finally! 

What a giant waste of my time that turned out to be.


At least I got a blog post out of it. 


How was your day yesterday? 





Annette: a retrospective (1968 – 2018)

When I opened my laptop today, I had no idea that I’d be writing my 200th blog post. I like the symmetry of a ‘milestone’ post being the first in Annette: a retrospective (1968 – 2018).


Self portrait in dappled light, 2018


I can’t believe that I’ve written 199 other posts here, sent each of them out into the ether… and they’ve all been responded to in one way or another. That’s something… and it seems fortuitous timing to start this retrospective at this stage in my blog’s lifespan.

Here’s the gist of it: I turn 50 in 15 days. Half a century on this little blue ball in space. That’s kinda cool.

In the course of those 50 years, life has served me a smorgasbord of experiences. Some wonderful, some mediocre, some long forgotten, some painful… nothing unique about that, right? We all share the same joys and burdens in that respect.

What I’ve been pondering, as my blog slowly atrophies and loses readership and engagement, is that while I might *feel* like my life is boring and I’ve got nothing much to say, that’s not actually true.

I might not be having a magnificent adventure or be in the midst of a deeply life altering season right this minute (or I could be but I just don’t know it yet), but I’ve had them, and they’ve shaped the person I am.

Really, I’m a baby valley; apt given that my middle name is Dale. The seasons of life have changed me, I’m worn smooth in some places, and there’s definitely sediment and settling happening! I’m made up of layers. I am an archaeological dig, waiting to happen.

What I’d like to embark on next is the blogging equivalent of a non-exhaustive, on-the-fly retrospective of Annette. Not a highlights reel. Nope. If you want pretty, curated and sterile, head over to Instagram and follow someone you’ll never know anything about except that they can create an on-trend flatlay.

What I’m hoping for is that as I think about my life and the things that have shaped me, I might find 14 more things to write about that are interesting, thought provoking, revealing and perhaps contain some of the kernels of what it is that make me who I am. It’s the ultimate blogging exercise –  a series all about me – huzzah for narcissism!

The thing is, I don’t think it will be that, and if it is, I apologise in advance. Yet, even if it is does turn out to be what women particularly have been told is the ultimate self-indulgence (thinking not of how we can first be of service to others is the ultimate lady crime, right?), really is that such a bad thing?

If I write 15 posts about knowing myself, about how I got to be the person I think I am today, and within those ‘mirror, mirror, on the wall…’ ramblings, there’s something transferrable or that makes one person reading this blog feel like they’re not alone in their own valley, then fuck it, I’m going to write like my story is the most important story in the world. Just for a fortnight.

To kick things off, here’s a list of 15 Annette factoids which may or may not come up over the next two weeks:

  1. I love colour.
  2. I am a shouty driver.
  3. Home is my favourite place in the world.
  4. I’m not inclined to be a follower. Not anymore.
  5. I do not have a passport, see item 3.
  6. Ambition and I are not well-acquainted.
  7. I love hugs.
  8. I taught myself to be compassionate.
  9. Going to youth group, at my local church, shaped me profoundly.
  10. I have no childhood memories of ever dreaming of getting married.
  11. I like my face. It doesn’t need to be dressed up for anyone.
  12. Once I believed I was irreversibly broken; I was wrong. See item 8.
  13. I am adopted. See item 8 again.
  14. Words are my gateway to the world.
  15. My words are worth reading.

I invite you to join me as I wander through the past 50 years. Maybe you’ll recognise some milestones and markers along the way. Perhaps as I ponder my past, it will light the way into the future. Let’s find out together.

With love,

Annette x

Lessons from the heart

I’ve had nothing but time on my hands since I was wheeled out of surgery last Thursday. 

Here are some things I’ve been pondering.

Hearts are amazing. 

Really, that should say hearts and heart surgeons are amazing. 

Last Thursday at 10am I lay in the catheter lab, on a bed/slab whatsit which I’m sure has a fancy medical name I don’t know, and two surgeons guided three teensy wires into my heart, and the process didn’t kill me. 

Not only that, they attached those wires to a little electrical box that is now controlling the beating of my heart. 

I mean, wowee kazowee I’ve got my very own internal beatbox!! 

And I was awake while all this happened; though I will say the sedatives they gave me were excellent and I wasn’t really *there* for a lot of the procedure. I would dearly like to pash whoever invented those drugs. 

Nurses are incredible. 

All nurses deserve to be applauded each and every day as they arrive at hospitals and clinics the world over. If you are a nurse or a midwife reading this, I want to say thank you. 
Thank you from the bottom of my beatbox heart. 
What a magnificent job nurses do, caring for people on their most vulnerable days. 
As my procedure wound down last week, the only place I was feeling any pain was my lower back. I was on that whatsit slab for three hours, and my back was not happy about it. 
I was crying under the surgical drape, knowing I had to stay still and let the doctors finish their work, and I asked one of the nurses if she would hold my hand. Without hesitation she grabbed my hand and held it for what I think was about 20 minutes, until I was stitched up and patched up and wheeled back to the ward. I love that nurse! 

Family matters.

Team Hill has been sensationally present and supportive throughout this whole process.
My awesome sisters tag-teamed taking me to and from hospital on surgery day, and my parents have been wonderful in making sure I’ve got everything I need as I recuperate. From having enough fruit at home to coming over to cook for me, to spontaneous pharmacy runs and putting the bins out, they’ve been so helpful. Thank you family! 
A special shout-out goes to my niece Matilda, who let me sleep in her bed that first night after surgery. Her room used to be my room when I was a kid, and there was something wonderfully comforting about peeking out at the night sky from the exact same spot I did that 30+ years ago. 
I reckon the familiarity of home has healing power. 

You got to have friends…

This one’s a biggie. It’s one I’m lucky and grateful to say I’m bigly blessed in. 
I have outstanding friends. Outstanding! 
I’ve had friends rallying and sending me sweet words, and utterly delightful cards and gifts; beautiful art, home made tea bags, care packages bursting with chocolate, flowers, some beautiful soft tees, journals, and magazines. (I hope I didn’t forget anyone or anything!) My workmates even bought me some super cute recovery pjs! 
I am absolutely convinced that all the positive energy that came my way prior to surgery helped me to stay calm on the day. 
I’ve had lots of super uplifting messages from friends old and new, and offers of help, and I’m proud to say I’ve allowed myself to be helped, without worrying about whether it’s an imposition. Pro-tip: when someone offers help and you accept it, you’re not imposing on them. 
Also, when someone else makes you a chicken sandwich, it always tastes at least 84% more delicious. Fact. 
Being stuck at home (I still can’t drive until the end of next week) I’ve been hanging out online a lot and posting a lot of #recoveryselfie photos. It’s great to still be able to connect with people, even if I can’t get out and about. 
On that note, a friend saw a post of mine on Facebook last night, where I was fretting about my wound, and she called to check on me, then turned up on my doorstep after midnight with supplies from the chemist! We gasbagged and laughed for a few hours, so I got to use up some of my words, and even better, I was distracted from worrying about my wound. 
Another beautiful friend offered to cook for me, and arrived earlier in the week with a gigantic basket filled with home-baked, and low sodium, meals. They’ve all been delicious! 
Like I said, bigly blessed. 

Wounds, and hearts, know how to heal. 

it’s extraordinary how the body is built to heal. 
Each day since the surgery, I’ve felt better and better. 
Sleeping has been a massive part of that incremental improvement. 
I’m convinced that the vast majority of us underestimate the power of sleep, not just for post-operative healing, but for daily rejuvenation. We need more sleep. Do whatever you can to get it. 
Generally, I’m not much of a rule follower (you’re shocked, aren’t you?!) but I have been extra diligent about not moving my left arm much, not trying to do all the usual things myself, and it is paying off. 
Yes, I’m bored, and I’ve got cabin fever; but I’d much rather be bored now than land myself back in hospital, or worse, because I didn’t follow doctor’s orders. 
My heart muscle is still damaged, but it is working more efficiently. My pacemaker sees to that. 
My body is wounded, but it’s healing. 
That’s how it’s designed.
Pretty awe-inspiring isn’t it? 
From the couch, 
Annette xxx 

Hooray for holidays!

Hello friends!

I don’t know about you, but for me 2018 seems to be well underway. After three glorious weeks of holidays, I’m into my second week back at work and so far, the air is filled with good energy and positivity. 

Spending Christmas with my family was so relaxing and fun, we celebrated twice; with lunch at my youngest sister’s newly bedecked house on Christmas Day, followed by dinner at my youngest brother’s place on Boxing Day. Both my hosts made special low sodium versions of the main meal for me, which I really appreciated, and I made a couple of superb salads. It was wonderful to be together as a family. 

When I think back to how sick I felt the Christmas before, it makes our time together all the sweeter. 

Do you remember my plans to tackle my overwhelming, overstuffed, junky store rooms over the summer break? 

I’m pleased to report that I absolutely smashed those rooms into shape. I shared lots of that process on Instagram, using #theclearoutisON as my motivational hashtag. 

At the end of 2016, I simply couldn’t face it, it was physically and mentally beyond me. This year, I loved the challenge. It took days and days to get those rooms shipshape, and once I started there was no turning back. 

The junk piles moved progressively through the house until they found their places – recycling bin, donation box, waste transfer station pile, or back to the store room.  

I overfilled four large recycling bins (yes, four!), then filled my car with books which I donated, then filled it again with stuff ranging from a dodgy vacuum cleaner to an old toaster oven to a jute rug and paid the princely sum of $6 to recycle that load at the local waste transfer station. 

The smallest pile went back into the store rooms, neatly, and it thrills me so much that you may occasionally find me in there admiring the clear floors and the orderliness I created. 

Aside from my epic clear out, I did some more “low impact” holiday activities; I rested, enjoyed a long lunch with a friend, spent a little time painting, saw a couple of movies, and hung out at home. Those three weeks off allowed me to thoroughly recharge my batteries. 


I decided to set some intentions or guiding words for 2018, and I’m feeling the benefit of them as I continue to look after my health and wellbeing. 

This year I want to become bold, strong and healthy. And so I shall. 

One of the ways I’m doing this is through exercise – that’s not something I’ve ever done before except in very occasional fits and starts. My treadmill and I are becoming better acquainted, and I even treated myself new walking shoes and a FitBit. My daily step count is being increased regularly. I’m feeling the benefits of moving more, but am by no means an endorphin junkie just yet! 

Another way I am cementing good habits is by continuing to eat well. I am making an effort to eat more vegetarian meals each week and lean into a Mediterranean style of eating. No diets for me, just healthy choices. Legumes and sweet potato fries forever! 

I’m feeling energised and positive about the path I’m on. There will always be challenges, but I am taking control of what I can, and that’s helping a tremendous amount. It’s all about attitude, and I can definitely influence that positively. 

So hooray for holidays! Here’s to a bold, strong and healthy year for all of us. 

Tell me how you’re feeling about 2018. 


Annette x 

Summer Plans

Only one day to go until I start three glorious weeks of holidays. 

Twenty-one days. 

Twenty-one nights. 

Twenty-one slow mornings, coffee in hand, ahhhhh… how’s the serenity? 

Though I want to do lots of schlubbing around in the coming weeks, I also have a few things I want to achieve in my holidays. 

The BIG project will be getting my weird storage spaces in order. 

I live in a strange little unit that’s connected to an equally ‘characterful’ place next door, and the rooms adjacent to the shared walls are storage spaces. Mine houses bookcases filled to the brim with books and DVDs, a stack of built in cupboards, also filled to capacity with books, old journals, CDs, cassettes and other random bits of this and that. At last count, there are three chairs jammed in there, as well as a monitor I borrowed from friends a few years back, old baskets, half burnt down candles and some art supplies. 

Then there’s a secondary chamber that houses a freestanding linen cupboard, my filing cabinet, an assortment of half-working IKEA lamps and lampshades, my grandparents’ super cool vintage table lamps, another shelving unit, a couple of buckets, a busted vacuum cleaner, a foot spa, one or two side tables, empty boxes, and an overflowing container of assorted wrapping paper. 

It’s basically the perfect country junk store, jammed between two rental units, deep in suburbia. 

This morning before I left for work, I got a big blue IKEA bag, filled with old text books and other random crap, and hoisted it into the recycling bin. It was SO satisfying! Yes, I’m recycling books. Whatever. They’re my books and I can (recycling) bin if I want to, bin if I want to, biiiiiiin if I want…. 

Fear not, I didn’t put the blue bag in the bin, those things are awesome. 

Over the next three weeks, I want to sort through every book I own, in preparation to re-shelve the keepers and ditch those that don’t make the cut. 

I want to go through all the CDs and DVDs and vamoose the ones I don’t want into a box headed for the op-shop. 

Then I’ll re-arrange the bookcases and maybe dismantle one entirely and donate it. I want to be able to SEE THE FLOOR, and have no fear of tripping over chair legs or vacuum hoses. 

The cherry on top will be emptying these sneaky built in cupboards. They are a trap for stuff I have zero use for. 

Oh look, a handy cupboard, I’ll just stack these books I haven’t read for 15 years in there and close the door. 

That’s what storage space is for, right? WRONG. 

Why do we fill cupboards, simply because they exist? ENOUGH! 

Newsflash: I am under no obligation to keep books that I have no future interest in, just because they’re books. 

I’ve read them. Time to release them into the wild, or the recycling bin. We’ll see. 

If I can complete this mammoth task, I’ll either be exhausted and spend the remainder of the holidays weakly marvelling at my suddenly gargantuan, well organised storage spaces, or I’ll be exhilarated enough to tackle the kitchen next.

Inexplicably, I still have enough mugs to handle smoko for several sunburnt roadworks crews, and once again, the containers cupboard is a complete mess! How does that happen? How? 

There are some ugly hand-me-down platters lurking in those cupboards. Time to go!  

I have too many utensils cluttering up my limited space; be gone damn whisk!

The cupboards under the sink need a ruthless cull. I’m just the woman for the job! 

Sounds relaxing doesn’t it? 

The thing is, nothing makes me happier than being at home. 

When my home is organised and tidy, my love for my poorly constructed, uninsulated roof, my second-hand furniture, my sunken bedroom, and the things that my grandmothers owned increases exponentially. 

Home is where my heart is, it doesn’t need to be where old junk is too. 

I deserve better than that, and I can change it. 

Maybe you can’t imagine anything worse than spending some of your summer on this kind of project. 

While I’m not chomping at the bit to get all sweaty and create a big mess before everything gets re-housed, what motivates me is the results. I know they’ll make me deeply happy. I’m sure an organised and tidy home lowers my blood pressure, and raises my mood. All that reaching into dark recesses of cupboards and sweeping and vacuuming and sorting and binning and donating is a bloody good workout too. 

That’s my summer holiday plan. 

I’ll go to the movies and have lunch with friends too. 

I’ll walk on my treadmill, make art, read books, spend time cooking, and gazing at trees and clouds. 

Twenty-one days is a long time, over 500 hours in fact. I plan to milk those hours for all the restorative goodness I can. 

Don’t fail me now IKEA totes! 

Annette x 


What are your summer plans? 

Got a storage space that needs some attention? Let me know, I’ll cheer you on. 

Do you have a foot spa lurking in a cupboard somewhere too???? #footspahoarders 




Typical Tuesday

Today I read a post over at BabyMac and I’m exhausted and awed by it. 

Sheesh, talk about WERK-ing. Hats OFF mamas. 

You can read Beth’s post here

I thought I’d do my own cheeky version of the same thing, and share a typical day in the life of the mythical single gal about town ensconced in the suburbs. 

A typical Tuesday, a day in the life…


The need to pee pushes me from half asleep to throwing back the covers. Rats. Almost blinded by the sun streaming in through the ensuite window. 


Stagger back to bed, fall back to sleep. 


Need to pee again, damnation. 


Get up. Pee. Weigh myself (and a big middle finger to you, heart failure). 
Ego demands I weigh myself twice to stay under the looming leap into the next group of 10s! Thank you, dodgy, uneven bathroom floor. 


Take morning pills. Prepare for more peeing! 


Hop back into bed, decide to listen to a podcast.
Listen to an episode of Dirty John and it annoys me because *spoiler alert* after she’s found his criminal history and moved out of their house, she then TAKES HIM BACK! Why? Whhhyyyyy? Turn it off in a huff. Stupid conman loser! 


Decide to listen to Slow Home Podcast. Ahh, that’s better.


Roll out of bed, at about the same time my alarm was set for. 


Decide to start the day with some baking – banana bread for the win. 
A delicious, simple way to use up some of the fast ripening bananas in my fruit bowl. 


Banana bread goes in the oven.


Mosey out to the living room.


Watch an old ep of Sarah’s House, one of my favourite design shows. 


Check banana bread. Turn tray around, it smells divine! Crank up the heat a little. 


Record a video message and text it to my sister. Happy birthday Lisa! 


Make coffee and enjoy that with freshly baked mini loaves of banana bread. 
Post evidence of same on Instagram. 


Look out the window at another brilliant blue sky. 
Think about what to wear to work. 


Record my morning coffee in my H2Overload app. 240mls in. 1260ml left. 


Phone time, scroll Facebook, Instagram, check emails. Look at Twitter. 
Read latest Woosgworld post, when the newsreader becomes the news


Tidy kitchen up. No actual cleaning occurs, but dishes are stacked and the counter gets a cursory wipe. 


Guess what? Yep! Again.

Lost time

I don’t really know what I did here – it may have involved watching Jamie Oliver, daydreaming, and some wandering about. 

High Noon

Time to get ready for work, I want to be a little early today. 
Organise lunch – leftover frittata, a mini loaf of banana bread, an apple. Carefully fill my water bottle – bang on 500 mls, that’s to last me until I get home.


Update my H2Overload app. If I don’t update it, I worry that I’ll forget what I’ve put down the hatch, and accidentally drink too much and bloat like a sea sponge. 


Ablutions. God, I love that word.


I’m ready to rock and roll. Wink at myself in the mirror, as is my daily habit. 


Off I go. Freeway isn’t clogged today, sky is incredible, tunes are good. Easy drive. 


Arrive at work.


Log on, chat about this and that with my colleagues. 
Type the things, file the things, reply to the things, get driven almost insane by the volume of a meeting going on in the conference room. Indoor voices please! 

Werk, werk, werk, werk, werk. 


Reminder to move my car dings! It’s set to ding at 3:30pm every day from now to eternity because I can’t be expected to remember something that happens every day. Scoff lunch at my desk. 


Post office run. 
Take opportunity to snap #lookup photo and post it on Instagram. 


Back to the office. I get to park in one of the allocated spots under the building now, fancy. 

Werk, werk, werk, werk, werk.


Lights off, office door locked, head for home. Crank up the Gold104.3 tunes. Long live the 80s! 


Arrive home, via a quick stop at Woolies, check the letterbox, bins out, junk mail gets junked. 


Ahhh, bag off my shoulder, shoes off, it’s so warm I flick the fan on. 


Time for an after work snack, then my evening pills go down the hatch. 


Until the sun goes down, my feet are up. Lemon cordial and soda water on the rocks, cheers! 


Oooh a new Jamie Oliver show, yes! #5ingredients


Write a blog post. 


Dinner might be leftovers, or a batch of zucchini fritters. That choice is still in my future! 


More social media time while watching TV. Bra off! 



That’s a pretty standard day in the life. 

Sometimes there’s art, sometimes there’s laundry, sometimes I start work earlier, or cook up an evening meal in the morning before I go to work. 

So, pretty similar to Beth’s day, give or take a load or three of laundry! 

The beauty of this is that I know neither Beth or I would swap our lot for quids. 

This is what I want you to take from this bit of fun, we all choose, we aren’t in competition, and we certainly don’t need to justify how we spend our days to anyone. We all have great days and groundhog days.

But sweet Mags, give mama a break, how about 6:45am tomorrow? 

How was your day? Typical Tuesday? 

Whatever your days involve, please *make* time to #lookup. 


Annette x 







Notice The People You’re With

This morning a post from my old blog came up in my Facebook memories, and I thought I’d share it here.  Perhaps you can relate to it in some way? 


It has been a pretty stressful couple of weeks, not my preferred state of being. 

Stuff will always frustrate me in life, that’s no revelation, but it has been really hard to keep going without the way I felt spilling out and staining the people around me. Not nice, for them, or for me. 

The fact that I felt justified in my aggro has no bearing on how I mishandled it. I let it get the better of me and that sucked for everyone around me. Yuk. I was part of the problem, not the solution, simple as that. 

This week it came to a head and strong words were spoken, which left me reeling, and sobbing (I know it’s hard to believe – me, crying?!). But that’s not the point. The good that came from it is. 

After I had stopped bursting into tears, which took several hours, I took some time to think about what was said, what I did wrong, how I could do better and what I could take from the experience. 

I sorted through what mattered and what I could let go and I decided to address one particular thing that troubled me. I even wrote myself a little script to stay focused! 

The next day I initiated a conversation with one of the peeps in the previous day’s discussion, and with a bit of to and fro, I worked out what i had heard wasn’t what was said, and I was able to explain that what he’d heard wasn’t what I’d said – ah the art of clear communication…. I am so glad there was an opportunity to go back and fix that part of it. 

Misunderstanding others (or being misunderstood) has been going on since the dawn of time. 

No matter how clear we think we are being, when things get heated, and/or emotional, there’s no way to know that the person you’re talking to (or at), can understand you or vice versa. 

Some people in this world love argy-bargy and get a hard-on from being argumentative or provocative – I 100% hate that. ONE HUNDRED PERCENT. 

I hate it when people are angry with me, and I am completely undone when I discover something I’ve done has been the scource of people’s frustrations or disappointment. 

I never want to have a debate or argument as sport, ever. Just to be clear, never, EVER. 

So a period that had some awfully deep lows, ended up in a day of peace and productivity and laughter and kind words. I am so frickin’ grateful for that! 

And I learned some good lessons into the bargain. Progress, yay me! 

There’s something really powerful about going back to the table, and though I admit I don’t go back to every table in my life (I am most definitely a work in progress and in some instances a completely disinterested party in any kind of table read) I am really glad I went back to the one that was set before me this week. 

I came away from the second table feeling full – full of hope that I can do better, and be better, and full of relief that I was given the chance to speak my piece, in peace. 



It took me a moment when I saw this post again this morning to place the memory, but I do remember these days clearly, and I’m still so pleased that I did my best to clean up the spill. 

Last night I was listening to the Little Known Facts podcast and Alan Alda was the guest. He said these words, and I grabbed my phone to capture them. I think they sit well against this old post. 

Enjoy your weekend, friends. 


Make peace where you feel able to. 


Annette xx 


PS #lookup