Six Years. In the year of social distancing, venue closures and quarantine measures, I’ve tried to avoid the lamentation of missed annual events, supporting others who have found the special dates the hardest to cope with. When people are sad that there will be no birthday or anniversary celebratory get-together, I remind them that the key part is that we make the following year’s. And the one after that. And as many as we can. We can sacrifice one to make the rest. With this, dates in 2020 have mostly passed unnoticed or forgotten. Except one, Six years. I never forget July 3 rd . It isn’t a date for celebration or for family gatherings. It is a day of reflection; for me to pause and gather my thoughts on another 12 month cycle and any hint of progression. Six years – but it could be any number. It feels as though it could have been a longer time ago, yet equally it could have been just last year. Six years since I stopped fighting, like the hens we los