Well! Ive just got off the phone with a lovely young lady who was able to patiently talk me through my banking travails. She even said to me, as I was struggling to type in my password,“That’s it Kirsty! You’re doing really well!”

Got a new phone last week, little did I foresee the repercussions that have traumatised me since.

Well it’s that time of year again.

My husband changed jobs last year to one he can easily walk to.

The meditation app that I paid an arm and a leg to join sends me notifications every evening to try and nag me to practice.

It’s 6:30 in the morning on a Saturday, far too early to be awake if you don’t have to go to work or milk cows or whatever, but I’ve been up to look at Matariki.

When we got back home after our Samoan holiday a couple of weeks ago, there were a few things around the place that our house sitters (an assortment of offspring) had neglected to do to my satisfaction.

A friend of mine posted an update on Facebook some while ago with a photo much like this one:

Popped along to the official debrief for my patient death last week expecting pats on the back all round for how well it had gone.

I’ve been very quiet this week because my first case on my return to work after my holiday went badly.