The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow

I used to have an identity. I used to be someone. I was the one everyone wanted to talk to at parties. I was glamour personified. I was fun and perceived to be maybe just a little naughty. I was ... an air hostess.

In those days, the place names of Rio, Johannesburg, Nairobi, Caracas, Vancouver, Sydney, New York, Bangkok and Hong Kong tripped off my tongue. I jumped on and off planes like most people jump on the number 44 bus.


And then one day I hung up my uniform and became normal. I had a normal job, a normal life and I holidayed in Florida.

Ten years later and many several pounds heavier, I looked at myself in the mirror and saw someone else.

I saw a beige person. I was dressed in beige. What had happened to the brightly coloured clothes I had amassed from all over the world? My hair was beige where once it was fiery red, dirty blond or rich mahogany, depending on the whim of the moment. My life was beige. I had turned into a mum, a wife and a drudge.


Don’t get me wrong. I love being a mum. I love the chat at the school gates. I love the sense of community. And most of all, I love the love that comes from that little person. The smile that melts your heart. The chubby arms wound tightly around your neck.

But something was missing. I needed colour, I needed life. I needed to find the old me.

I took stock of my life. I was working in my husband’s business, living his dream, not mine. I was living in a place I hated, which made my heart heavy every time I drove into the village limits. I had lost my enthusiasm, my sense of adventure and worst of all, my self confidence.

They say that inside every old woman there is a young girl wondering what the hell happened. That was exactly how I was feeling , and I’d only just turned forty!

Little by little, I turned my life around. I retrained in Reiki and began helping others. We moved away from that ugly village where, if you weren’t born there, you were an “incomer”, an outcast, a social pariah. We moved to a vibrant village, full of like-minded people, community spirit and fun.

Then I met Paul McKenna at a seminar and my life changed for the better. I lost weight using his system. I decided to train as a hypnotherapist.


And I auditioned for the local theatre company. I was a closet karaoke queen. I had never sung in front of anyone in my life and suddenly I found myself standing in front of a panel of four with nowhere to hide. I opened my mouth, took a deep breath and sang louder than I had ever done in my life.

“The sun will come out tomorrow...”

And I knew that the sun would come out.

That if I was stuck with a day that was grey and lonely, I’d stick out my chin and grin and say “tomorrow’s only a day away”.