The first time I met Hannah, she was poking out of a hedge.

The second time I met her, she was walking around a field carrying an inflatable hot pink flamingo. In retrospect, this was probably quite a gentle introduction as to what was to follow.

For some reason [I’m still not quite sure why] she asked if I’d like to come and work with her a day a week. For some reason [I’m not quite sure why], I said I would.

Now Hannah and I aren’t a natural ‘pairing.’ I like lining things up whilst she’s not keen. I like Michael Bolton and have seen Celine Dion in concert with my dad – she plays music with banjos in and listens to the Archers. I went to church every Sunday for 21 years and am pretty sure that just one year with Hannah has undone all the goodness that was in store for me in Heaven. God, if you’re listening, I’m sorry.

Her house is filled with ‘stuff’. Good stuff. It’s like the first time you were allowed up into the loft when you were a kid and came across your granddad’s old war medals and your sister’s diary. I loved reading my sister’s diary but that’s a whole other blog! There are books, old ones, with good fonts down the spine; faded crockery filled with flowers from her garden, an old 1950s oven that I’m sure is slowly gassing me to death as I work.

There are kids everywhere, mostly her own. Big ones, small ones, medium sized ones. All slightly feral with wild hair and all beautiful, There’s a dog as well. Daisy Dog. Scruffy, cute and loves me, so we’re good.

My world is now filled with flowers, glitter curtains & Radio 4. I am fully informed whenever I’m being too ‘Liz’ like and have come to believe Hannah’s mantra that “everything will be fine” might actually be true.

A year with Hannah has changed everything. I actually have no idea what’s normal anymore and often feel a bit like Alice at the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party but, as with everything Hannah touches, it’s the prettiest and bestest tea party in all the land !!!