It has to get worse…

…before it gets better.

So grateful to my friend Alison for coming over this morning and giving moral support/empathy/sensible advice/iced buns for elevenses. She recognised that, despite my ever-smiling exterior, I have been really struggling lately. And she understands how difficult and painful it is to sort through your own and your loved ones’ past, especially when you live alone and feel utterly overwhelmed by it all. She may well have helped me to avoid a major bout of depression (seriously).

The kitchen now has no more boxes or furniture in it. There are bags for the charity shop and the tip. Believe it or not, this is actually better than it was before!