Got a message from my crush today! Does this mean...she wants to talk...to me? No, I'm not going to get carried away, it's just a chat, I know, I know...
My kid's five now. I'm both elated and depressed by this milestone. He grows ineffably cooler and more fun by the day, but the years are proving agonizingly short. He's a quarter grown and I'm not a percent ready for his childhood to wane. I love him more than I knew I was capable. I'm humbled and grateful. I'm impressed, surprised and inspired daily. The fact that I miss the baby and toddler days with brain ache akin to the loss of the great loves of my life is repeatedly trumped by the utter joy generated by the constant privilege of witnessing increasingly superior and hitherto impossible feats of intellect, creativity, empathy and kindness I never imagined possible in a child. I love my boy. Every day I miss what he was, but every day he's a better thing, and accordingly, proportionately am I. Happy birthday, Oliver.
There is a large parcel from Waterstones on its way including my summer reads for the holidays. According to the last status report it has left the United Kingdom already .
As a follow on from my Not Happy the other day, I bring you a Cyst update : I left it alone yesterday for the both of us to recover from the first squeezing session. Felt brave enough to try again today, and success! Spoiler: Fair warning-gross content. Especially for Iain Aschendale The culprit behind all the pain and hoo-ha: the cyst sac. It's the size of a piece of sweetcorn, and stinks to high heaven. By the time it jumped out of the hole, it was empty, but still attached. Needed a bit of encouragement. Fortunately, not too much. My scalp after the battle. It will take a few months for the hair to grow back there, but it will grow back.
I refuse to accept responsibility for Justin Bieber, the Cadaver Synod, or the events of 17 July 1963, but other than that, sure, why not?
we clearly can't blame iain for the birth of king Letsi III of lesotho or the last launch from complex 21 at cape canvaral
Too late! His mother is writing her memoirs and guess what she's telling about that hot air balloon trip with twelve rubber ducks and not any other things from that material!