The Final Line: Foreign's or Citizen's Legacy?
'Draw a line under it,' my father used to say. More than a father, he was my friend. When I was stuck, lost in life’s maze, he’d tell me, 'Make a cut, draw a line. Like in maths, when you add it all up. It’ll tell you what comes next.' The time had come to draw that line and see where I stood. Seven years ago, I arrived in London at 50, with no English, clutching a photo of my daughters and a heart full of courage. I’d received Indefinite Leave to Remain in the United Kingdom, just one step from citizenship. Foreign or Citizen? I craved it—not just for papers, but because I’d fallen head over heels for this country from day one, especially London. I didn’t just feel I belonged; I did belong. Croatia and Serbia, my old homes, were no longer mine—not in mind, not in heart. Too many battles to find what every human deserves: justice, freedom, protection as a woman, mother, person. The UK was my home now. 'Draw a line, Cherry.'
I held a gift from my English teacher, the son of a former client—a book for my citizenship Knowledge Test. 'I’d love a brisk English course to brush up,' I’d told him. 'I need to save for the application.' Line drawn. To-do list updated. For two and a half years, I’d lived as a Live-in Carer, immersed in the lives of my dear English clients. I learned their culture, history, and met brilliant people—each leaving their mark, teaching me the mindset, heritage, and democracy of this country. 'Draw a line, Cherry.' I couldn’t be a Carer forever. Living 24 hours in someone else’s life left no room for a free evening, a theatre trip, or a simple walk—or a simple life. Leaving was heavy, tied to my clients and shadowed by fear. But I had to move forward—new challenges, hobbies, perhaps a new love. 'Draw a line, Cherry.' I changed jobs. Line drawn. Done.
Thanks to the skills and connections from my Carer days, I landed a role as a Trade Account Manager at one of the UK’s biggest companies. It was a new world beyond care, both challenging and rewarding. For over twenty years in Croatia, I’d been an interior designer, weaving joy through events—balloons, flowers, celebrations—sharing life’s happiest moments with clients for eight of those years. I’d dreamt of being an interior designer in Britain—a posh profession, a fortress for a foreigner to breach. This new role was a bridge to my past. I opened trade accounts, built client relationships, and poured my passion into every task. In just one year, my clients thrived, and with my cracking team, we hit a turnover of nearly one million pounds in 2024. My almost-first million. I’m endlessly grateful to my area manager for the chance, and to my colleagues, store managers, and business developers who made it happen.
But dreams evolve. After three years, I felt the pull to create something of my own—a legacy that reflects my heart and values. 'Draw a line, Cherry.' I gave my notice, ready to chase a bigger vision. It was emotional—I’d grown to love the company and the friendships forged there. I left. Line drawn. Done. They made me richer, better, wiser. But at 56, I knew it was time to honour who I am and what I’m meant to do. Never abandon who you are. 'Write the business plan,' I told myself. Line drawn. Seven years ago, at 50, I started my to-do list anew—as a woman, a mother, a human. At 15 or 20, my list was endless: visit Egypt, fall in love, travel, be a lawyer, write a book, meet Whitney Houston, Nelson Mandela. Life sweeps you up like a swift river. Before you blink, you’ve got three kids, a career, no time for hobbies, and stolen moments for friends. Time flies faster as you age—faster than you can imagine. One item persisted: write a book. Another grew stronger: leave a legacy. 'Draw a line, Cherry.'
A friend called my story a “cinematic manifesto of courage,” and that courage began at 50, when I knew what I didn’t want and threw open the doors to everything I’d wished for. Age is just a number—it doesn’t define you. Now, at 56, time is short—maybe 10, 15 years to create and contribute. I want more than earning a living. I want to give to my community, my city, the planet. Let it be Cherry’s Festive Corner, where we celebrate life’s milestones with eco-friendly balloons, carbon-neutral flowers, and photobooths. For those with little to celebrate, there’ll be Cherry’s Whisper Cafe—a warm space in Wimbledon to honour their existence, share stories, books, workshops, laughter. It is a direct answer to the loneliness of my own nomadic years, ensuring others never feel that same chill. No one should be alone or lonely, because I know what it feels like. In Cherry’s Whisper Cafe, no one is alone—everyone finds a chat, a dose of love, a place to belong.
My commitment to this community runs deeper than joy and coffee. Through my volunteer work, I have seen the chilling reality of homelessness firsthand. Therefore, a portion of every single purchase, from the smallest cuppa to the largest celebration, will be directly contributed to Crisis, the charity I proudly support. This is my solemn pledge: every moment of belonging celebrated in my Corner will help someone fighting for their own place in London. Because, in the ultimate garden of hope, no one should be without a roof over their head.
Together, we’ll learn to protect nature, reduce waste, fight pollution. We’ll host community events, support charities, raise awareness about homelessness, foster empathy. Be the decent people our children expect. Like my grandfather’s vow to Kata, I pledge my legacy to my grandchildren—love, resilience, a home. Line drawn. Plan written. Statement crafted:
Cherry’s Festive Corner: My Vision, My Dream, My Legacy
My name is Visnja Drmic, but here, I’m simply Cherry. Seven years ago, at 50, I arrived in the UK from Croatia with no English, seeking a chance. This country gave me that—I embraced it with every fibre. For over 30 years, I’ve managed businesses, designed joyful events, and trained teams, from running my own shop for balloons and floristry in Croatia to generating £960k in revenue as a Trade Account Manager in the UK’s KBB industry. Now, I’m channelling that passion into Cherry’s Festive Corner, a business embodying my love for celebration, community, and the planet. It’s not just a business—it’s my soul poured into reality, a legacy for my grandchildren. My motto: “Do the job you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life.”
Picture a place where eco-friendly balloons, carbon-neutral flowers, and a proper warm cuppa in Cherry’s Whisper Cafe weave stories of togetherness. The laughter from the photobooth, the chatter over coffee, the feeling of belonging—that’s what makes my corner special. In Cherry’s Whisper Cafe, no one is alone—everyone finds a chat, a dose of love, a place to belong. My commitment to this community runs deeper than joy and coffee. Through my volunteer work, I have seen the chilling reality of homelessness firsthand. Therefore, a portion of every single purchase, from the smallest cuppa to the largest celebration, will be directly contributed to Crisis, the charity I proudly support. This is my solemn pledge: every moment of belonging celebrated in my Corner will help someone fighting for their own place in London. Because, in the ultimate garden of hope, no one should be without a roof over their head. My workshops will teach sustainable crafts, balloon art, and floristry, sparking creativity and inclusion for all ages. In five years, Cherry’s Festive Corner will be London’s heartbeat for celebrations, known for quality, warmth, and green values. In fifteen, I’ll pass it to my grandchildren—a symbol of joy, resilience, and care for our world. Through my memoir, Foreign or Citizen, I’ll share my journey from foreigner to citizen, a testament to never giving up, no matter where you start. Cherry’s Festive Corner is my way of giving back—a place where every balloon, every smile, every coffee makes London and the world shine brighter.
