This leaf was made for me by a bona fida blacksmith, in his leather apron. I watched him heat and cut the metal rod until it glowed orange and he hit it with his hammer, sparks flying, and knocked it into this leaf. I smelt the heat. 9 years old, on holiday in Norfolk with my Dad and his wife and my cousin James.

I had such little hands then and the leaf fitted perfectly in the crook of my thumb to my index finger and I knew it had been made to fit me. I had no idea that day what was to become of me, I just decided to always keep this leaf.

Now I'm 31 and even after feck only knows how many times of moving house, being homeless and finding my way again, and going through all the ups and downs that life dealt, my leaf is still here. With it so is that trace of 9 year old me.

Today I had an interview for an appointed Director post, a voluntary position, for a disability organisation here in Wales. I was really on form. I was appointed. I'm so genuinely pleased, really happy about it. I don't know why the leaf feels important today but it is just is.

Ad astra per aspera