A Week On: What Winning a Local Business Award Really Means for Whistle & Page

It’s been a week since that shiny, somewhat alarmingly heavy trophy came into my life — and honestly? It’s still strutting around the house like a confused exchange student. One minute it’s perched on the vintage typewriter like it’s drafting a political memoir, next it’s supervising dinner prep, then it’s letting River Song and Wilfred sniff it just enough to confirm it’s not edible.

But now that the sparkle and the shock have settled (slightly), I’ve had a moment to breathe and sit with what this win actually means — for me, for my family, and for our big, beautiful Whistle & Page community.

Because yes, this is a win for a small handmade business in Murrumbateman… but it’s so much bigger than that.

This is a win for every person who has ever believed in the magic of clay — the transformation that happens when a lump of earth becomes something functional, beautiful, meaningful.

A win for the kids who found their words during Clay Together sessions, finally telling their parents things they’d been carrying for days, weeks, sometimes longer.

A win for the adults who walked into workshops unsure and left knowing they’d found somewhere they belonged.

A win for every person who has cupped a handleless mug, taken a breath, and felt — even for a moment — cared for, grounded, or connected.

And yes, this is a win for me too.

A year and a bit into being a full-time artist, and I still catch myself thinking, Wait… is this really happening? Am I genuinely doing this?

A little over twelve months ago, I left my corporate life with shaking hands, an overflowing heart, and a whisper inside me saying, It’s time.

I was terrified.

But determined.

I wanted to prove to myself — to my family, my tribe, and this wider Whistle & Page family — that a creative life shaped by clay, storytelling, and community wasn’t just possible… it was purposeful.

And this award?

It feels like the universe sliding a gentle hand onto my shoulder and saying,

See? You’re not imagining it. Keep going.

A Note to My Family (Not corny. Maybe a tiny bit mushy.)

To my husband — thank you for never blinking when I say things like,

“I’m going to teach clay at lunchtime in schools,”

or “I’m turning the studio into a TARDIS,”

or “Yes, this vase should be shaped like a mushroom cloud.”

You’ve held space for this dream, carried the load when I needed both hands in the clay, and believed in the version of me that sometimes wobbled.

To my children — thank you for letting Mum be the clay-covered goblin she truly is. Thank you for cheering, for stealing my biscuits, and for filling this house with the sort of love that makes courage feel possible.

A Win Shaped By Many Hands

Whistle & Page has never just been “my business.”

It’s a community — living, breathing, laughing, making, grounding, transforming.

It’s your stories, your cups of tea, your kids’ clay fingerprints, your willingness to try something new, your courage to be creative, your generosity in showing up again and again.

If this award could sprout tiny arms, I swear it would hug every single one of you.

(And possibly shed glitter while doing it.)

A week on, the trophy hasn’t lost its shine — but what glows even brighter is this truth:

We did this. Together.

Here’s to the next chapter — clay-stained, community-filled, heart-deep, and wholeheartedly ours.

Until next time,
Nawsheen, your friendly homebody artist from Murrumbateman.