When I thought I’d lost my little shop it felt like a death. An inevitable expected death like that of an old dog, but still a cruel shock. One of those deaths where people say, Ah well, she had a good innings, and all you can think is, No no NO, I’m not ready, I want MORE innings. And when people looked at me and tilted their heads in sympathy it was because somehow they knew that this was the way it must be. And all I could do was wish I felt stronger so I could scream and rant and stamp my feet at the very least.

I was not ready to lose my little shop.

So instead I decided to put it on ice. Freeze it over the Winter and look again in the Spring.

As it turns out I will be having a Little Art Show at the shop a year to the day from having a lovely operation to remove some lymph nodes and a lump in my breast. I say lovely because I’ve never been to hospital before and I got to stay overnight with very kind people and someone brought me breakfast in bed. There was no pain and I felt so relieved. The cancer was gone. Chemo- and Radiotherapy to come. But what a difference a year makes. In February I danced for the first time in 12 months at my nephew’s wedding. I’m a clumsy, enthusiastic dancer and I love the way it makes me feel. But for a year I have not had the luxury of energy to ‘waste’.

So: I am changed. I have a different take on the useful time I have left on the planet. It’s a real opportunity to consciously build the life I would like. I have a whole lot less energy to go round now and for 2020 I’m focussing on making a success of my little shop. Not by opening every day, but by opening once every 60 days, and by showing things you cannot see anywhere else.

Love the little things. That’s what Mr Mustard says. It’s good advice but it’s not exactly ground breaking. And with a little shop and an imaginary friend we’re not going to change the world. But hopefully we are going to introduce a bit more joy into the proceedings. I have a feeling that this year could be a wonderful one.