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Welcome to todays diary entry! Three-Month Recap. It’s hard to believe that just three months ago since we have arrived back in the UK, these diary entries continue as a way to make sense of the chaos—somewhere to offload the pressure valve and keep a record of the storm we were walking through. What’s unfolded since is so much more than just a journal. It’s become a real-time account of one of the most transformative stretches of life I think I’ve ever lived.
Back in February, we returned from Morocco, sun-kissed and full of momentum, only to be immediately hit by the harsh reality of transitioning back into the grind. The show season kicked off with Blakemere, a baptism of fire in every sense of the word. Setting up from scratch, long hours, no time to breathe—and then taking it all down again with frayed nerves and zero energy left in the tank. It tested every part of me—physically, emotionally, mentally—but it also reminded me how strong we are when we pull together. It was messy, brutal, and unforgettable. And it left us standing stronger than before.
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March arrived like a storm of its own, bringing the new system into the shop. The tech overhaul that promised streamlined processes instead delivered confusion, frustration, and more late nights than I care to count. Tasks I could once do with my eyes shut now demanded full concentration—and even then, I second-guessed every move. There were days I genuinely didn’t know how to keep going. Days when the weight of it all sat like a brick on my chest. But I did keep going. We all did. Slowly, the chaos started to take shape. The system began to work for us instead of against us. And I started to believe we might just be getting somewhere.
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April was perhaps the most intense emotional rollercoaster of the lot. It started with that sinking feeling of staring around the shop, overwhelmed and unsure of how to fix the mess. But out of that hopelessness came dreams—big, bold, beautiful ones. Plans to buy land in Portugal took root in my mind and gave me a lifeline to cling to. I fell down rabbit holes of off-grid living, mud huts, and primitive DIY. And somewhere in those hours of escapism, a real vision formed. A homestead. A patch of land to call our own. A legacy for Rory. It lit a spark in me I didn’t even realise had gone out.
We also had Rory starting nursery—one of those parenting milestones that hits you like a truck. Watching him walk into that room, plastic orange in hand, and suddenly not need me as much—it brought tears, pride, and a deep ache all at once. And in the middle of all that, he got sick. Really sick. A terrifying trip to hospital reminded me just how fragile it all is. How none of this—the shows, the systems, the solar panels—means anything if he’s not okay. Thankfully, he is. But I won’t forget the feeling of watching him hooked up to machines while trying to stay strong for Lisa.
And yet, through all of this, we found joy. We grabbed pockets of sunshine. Days off that felt like tiny miracles. Pub lunches in Scotland. Cheap rounds. Late-night drives. Calzones the size of my head. Laughter around the fire. Little moments that reminded us why we do all this in the first place.
Now, here we are in May, staring down a packed calendar, and yet there’s a calm I haven’t felt in a while. We’re still knackered, still juggling too much, but we’re also sharper. Wiser. More aligned. The shows ahead no longer feel daunting—they feel like an opportunity. The systems aren’t perfect, but they’re manageable. And the dream? The land, the house, the Portuguese soil beneath our feet—that feels closer now.
We’ve come a long way since February. We’ve weathered storms and started planting seeds. And this diary, in all its rawness and honesty, has helped me see that we’re not just surviving anymore.
We’re building something.
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