Over Christmas I started to write again. It had been a long time since I’d been able to string words together and every time I tired, nothing clicked, nothing felt right; certainly nothing felt extraordinary. That was until Dad produced a 1000 piece jigsaw. After much derision on my part, I started to play, and maybe it was fitting the pieces together; assembling the border first (because apparently, that is the best way to start); looking for similar coloured pieces; or simply the joy of a patch completed. Whatever it was, with each piece that fit, a picture began to form.