One sheet a week. Stick it on your fridge, scribble on it, bin it, start the next.

If you're anything like us, you've bought the diary. The planner. The system that was definitely going to change everything this time. This isn't that.

We're not promising to sort your life out. We're promising one sheet, for one week, that you fill in on Sunday, stick on the fridge, and bin at the end. Then you start the next one. Because that's the thing about diaries. They get full. They get behind. They start to feel like a record of everything you haven't done. This doesn't.

It's six weeks of summer, one page at a time. Where you are. Where the kids are. Who's got them, who's driving, who's eating, who's staying over. Enough for a glance, enough for someone else to glance at, and quick enough to fill in with a cup of tea going cold next to you.

Scribble on it. Highlight it. Cross half of it out. Then bin it and do the next one.

There's a filled-in example on the first page. A real week, curveballs and all.

Nobody is doing this perfectly.

Annabel x