Every second Thursday as a little child, I would think my grandmother Dawn had won Lotto. Purse filled with $50 notes, we would traipse up the street, me with my head in a book, walking at the same time.

Little did I know that was actually pension day, but if any lady could stretch a dollar, it was her, and it was to our significant benefit.

Growing up in the Commission home area of town, it was a delightful community back in the day.

One where people would band together, you could knock on a door and ask for sugar, or a cup of milk.

Ninety per cent of the time, that was a knock on my grandmother’s door for these things, but that was life.

You could grow up accepted, not pushed. Sitting at the table with my pop, reading, or curled up like one of Nan’s cats on the couch.

Just happy, content, and quiet.

Shy as anything, I preferred my own company, not knowing how to make friends and having little desire to try.

I was like a little old lady, banging away on a keyboard, writing romances and mysteries when my step father bought his first computer.

Writing fearlessly and confidently. I miss those days; that lack of fear and doubt, utter faith in yourself, and content knowing you were just doing exactly what you wanted.

Over the years, the wheels fell off a little in high school, and like many, I ended up taking a much different path to the one I envisioned.

But thanks to my children, that was a path I would tread infinitely.

Always feeling like one day I would pick up a pen again, I was and still am a model ostrich; putting my head in the sand and convincing myself I have plenty of time is my specialty.

After a time, a very long time, however, that chance came around.

Walking into The Riverine Grazier offices for a job interview, I had a little chuckle to my self.

The saying, ‘punching above my weight’ came to mind.

It felt as though I was taking a silly risk, but at the same time I was slowly learning that it only stings for a little while when you put yourself out there and get knocked back.

Risk is worth the reward. Unbelievably nervous, I can’t really re member what was discussed in that meeting, but I was given a shot and am still indescrib ably glad for that. I still get a chuckle out of putting the sports pages together; anyone who knows me knows my childhood nickname was Bumblefoot (thanks Dawn). I can’t swim or ride a bike, and would con stantly complain of ‘women’s troubles to get out of the dreaded Physical Education classes. But thanks to amazing and knowledgeable local scribes, I am helped immeasurably in that aspect. There is still so much to learn, and as I get older, I feel as though skills and processes take me so long to absorb. There is something magical about feeling completely comfortable in a work environment.

Something refreshing about being told to take time to learn new skills instead of racing the clock and trying to look busy.

You can find positives and parts of any job to love, and I have always felt that way in every job I have had.

When I first re-entered the workforce after having children, it performed wonders for my mental health, an outlet where I could talk to adults, and start to repair myself.

The joy I felt in that never dissipated, and over time, I feel like a lot of my cracks have started to fill in, so to speak.

I have always just felt genuinely grateful to be part of a great community, after feeling disjointed and lost for many years due to personal struggles.

All anyone wants is to be included and treated the way they would treat anyone else, and although incredibly flawed, that is always my aim.

You can’t perform well in a role without supportive, patient and tolerating work col leagues, and bosses.

Not only do I have that at The Riverine Grazier a million-fold, but feel I have had that in every employment role I have had.

So that’s it, that’s my story, my blow of the horn. Toot toot, Kimbo.