This much I know...


I'd rather be honest than impressive. Up until a few years ago I had a problem with being honest with some people, and by honest I mean open if I had an issue with them or their behaviour. Not rocking the boat or creating conflict was the driver. When I finally got over that, it was one of the most freeing experiences of my life. Now I have to reign my honesty in at times.

Speak in such a way that others love to listen to you. Listen in such a way that others love to speak to you. I've never had a problem with the second part until that created a problem with people abusing that listening (entirely my own doing). When I finally struck the balance; some friends disappeared but most are thankfully still around.

I don't write people off. I just keep some at a very healthy, cross-country or continents distance.

Accept that you are not important to some people, and move on.

If you think it's expensive to hire a professional, wait until you hire an amateur. This applies to work and life - our self worth impacts everything we are and do. I'm expensive but worth every penny.

Say you're sorry. I thought I was good at this until I let 10 years lapse in a friendship before telling that person I was sorry for not listening to them when they needed me to the most. The time maybe needed to pass but I should have done it much much sooner. Admitting you're wrong falls into the same category.

Better single than taken, for granted. I do hope the inscription on my tombstone doesn't read "eternally single." I've been single more than I've been in relationships. I'm either picky or too set in my ways; or a healthy combination of both. It doesn't bother me as someone has recently created some butterflies in my stomach.

A copy of Arena magazine sparked my wanderlust when I was 10 years old lying on my bed on, what I thought was, a boring Sunday afternoon in my hometown, dreaming of one day moving to a big city, travelling the world, meeting and working amazing people and dressing like the models in the magazine. Funny the things we daydream about as children. Tick, tick, tick, tick.

There's no place like home and I didn't need Dorothy to tell me this. I couldn't wait to escape small town, quiet life and move to the bright lights, big city energy of London. Now I look forward to every time I escape to the slower pace and tranquillity of where I grew up. My parents still live in the same house I grew up in. Still home.

I've always been an optimist despite coming from a country prone to pessimism. I'm writing this post looking out of my bedroom (now office) window on an unusually quiet street. The world feels quiet now.