It is hard to leave any partnership, whether it's personal or work-related, and walking away from the successful restaurant business I ran with my sister for 16 years was not a decision I took lightly or quickly.

The seeds of an idea, whether I knew it then or not, were planted years ago when I first visited the tiny village of Auldhouse, on the outskirts of East Kilbride.

I fell in love with this quaint little place and its quirky buildings, the fine old pub and restaurant, the small school and the park with its painted swings.

It seemed a million miles from anywhere, and yet the big, busy, bustling town of East Kilbride where I grew up is just a few minutes' drive away.

After my children - Lewis, now 13, and 11-year-old Mirrin - were born, I rediscovered the village, enrolled them in the school, and dreamed of running the restaurant at the Auldhouse Arms.

I have been surrounded by a love of food my whole life, inspired by my uncle, my granny and sister, who loved to cook and bake. I was always more drawn to the front of house side of things - I can talk for Scotland (it's my Irish roots, I expect; my grandparents were from Donegal).

I studied cookery at Cambuslang College (now part of South Lanarkshire College) and went to Aviemore, learning from the best in the hotel trade, before heading off around the world on cruise ships. It was an exciting time for me, and I feel very lucky to have been able to experience so many incredible things: sailing under the Golden Gate Bridge, being amazed by wooden sidewalks in the beautiful Alaskan town of Ketchikan, sweeping through the Panama Canal on the way to Mexico ...

In 1998, my sister Jacqueline and I opened The Sisters restaurants, firstly in Ashton Lane, then we moved to Jordanhill, and then opened in Kelvingrove.

The food industry is hard, with long, unsociable hours. When my marriage broke up, suddenly I had to juggle it all with two young children.

When I first heard, back in August, that the restaurant lease at the Auldhouse Arms was up for grabs, it felt like something had fallen into place. It's been a hard couple of months but you just dig deep, don't you? I feel like something is driving me, some boundless energy that makes even the 80-hour weeks manageable.

The name, The Lost Lamb, was my mum's idea. I wanted something in keeping with our surroundings (and I'm the baby of the family, so lamb seemed appropriate).

There's another connection too. When I looked up the name, I found out there is a parable of the lost sheep, in which a shepherd leaves his whole flock, confident that they are safe, to find his one lost lamb.

That's how I feel about my team at The Sisters in Jordanhill, they are so stable and so good that I can walk away, and I know it will be all right.

Now it's about the future - for me, building a new business, with new challenges and new friends - and for my kids, who are loving being here.

They come in, rosy-cheeked and laughing, after playing in the park or feeding Clara and Darcy, the pigs who live up the road, and it feels like we are home.

SUSAN SWARBRICK