Years ago I walked up the infamous Gold Hill. A wonky street that dives from the top of a hill to the valley below in a beautiful curve. It’s dotted with thatched cottages with hobbit like doors and little chimneys, and the view above and beyond their rooftops is breathtaking. One cold November afternoon I fell in love with a cottage just a stone throw away from this gorgeous hill. I followed my beating heart that fell instantly for the crooked walls and large open fireplace. I fell in love with a house. Many have asked how did you dare to move to a place where you knew nobody, had no job and and a broken heart, far away from friends and family. No change is easy, but I had that feeling, a warm excited feeling in my heart the moment I saw the cottage, so I chose to follow that warm whisper that nudged me to change my life, to be brave and leap. So I did. It was never easy, but rather lonely and at times ever so heartbreakingly difficult, but I chose to stay the course, to continue believing that this feeling I’d had was real. I did the work, I showed up, I cried and felt lonely and curled up in bed as cold winter winds howled outside, and then I got up and kept walking, exploring and feeling grateful that I was given this marvelous opportunity to find my way. And through that I discovered myself, my strength, my voice and my work. And here I am five years on, with a published book, baby, a four legged furry love bundle, cottage and the man of my dreams. The journey isn’t over, life isn’t rose tinted every day, but I’ve gained the confidence to trust my own voice and to believe that there is room for me. And so I press on, continue reaching for my dreams, continue evolving and allowing for change, and above all, I continue to be grateful that there is a road less travelled, and that I get to walk it.