Right or wrong, sometimes I mentally chide myself if I’m feeling low.

While I’ll often do something positive or give myself something to look forward to, sometimes I treat my mind like a naughty child needing correcting.

During the lockdown Dad dug out the diary of family members who fought in the wars, short paragraphs with a place and date of personal notes from our men in absolutely abhorrent conditions. Sometimes I read through these hasty scribbles to remind myself that on a spectrum my challenges aren’t so grand, and I need to anchor myself to things that really matter and show some grit.