Conspiracy

With exactly one week to go until Deadline Day, I'd really like to be totally immersed in the book and only emerging into real life occasionally, reluctantly and for as short a time as possible. However, since last Tuesday when Daughter #3 started throwing up, right through the weekend when Mr G absented himself from domestic duty and went to Edinburgh for a weekend of rugby, beer and debauchery with my brothers, to the middle of last night when Daughters 2 and 3 started with the Virulent Vomiting Virus, events have been conspiring against me somewhat.

My head is still there. Just need to find time for my fingers to keep up.

Days Like These

How inconsiderate of daughter #2 to be born on the same day, 13 years ago, as the RNA Pure Passion Awards. This evening, instead of putting on high heels and teetering along to Whitehall Place to drink champagne and hold Abby Green's hand as she waits for the winner of Love Story of the Year to be announced, I will be lighting birthday candles and retreating to a safe distance from the shrieking of teenage girls (possibly with a bottle of Prosecco.)

Before that, when I would have been catching the train down to London (if daughter#2 had made her appearance on the right day 13 years ago) I am going to be sitting in the doctors (for probably about the same amount of time as it would take to get to London) waiting for a Tetanus injection, after Muffin the rabbit took a chunk out of my finger on Saturday.

*sniffs bravely and assumes a pious expression* A lesser person would probably be very bitter.