Ok, so I’ll admit, I generally think that Facebook is a platform for us to all lie to each other and perhaps even to ourselves too. The funny incident with the duct tape and the baby sitter makes for a great update, but admit it, at the time it was just plain embarrassing, and perhaps a little unnerving. I think forcing ourselves to see the funny or ridiculous side of our human failings is a trait to be applauded though, all too often we take ourselves far too seriously, and if it takes a Facebook status to make us come up with another, more positive view of a situation, then it’s no bad thing, even if our sole purpose is merely to try and convince the world that we are funnier, smarter and have a better social life than any of our friends.
By the time you read this post, I will have packed a suitcase, boarded a fast train to London and relocated the few things that Dominic and I can survive with into a room somewhere in the heart of Great Ormond Street hospital. I have been preparing to separate myself from my family and
At the risk of being pelted with chocolate Hobnobs, I'm going to break my own cardinal rule of militant Christmas denial until the calendar has been officially flipped over and I have to come face to face with the month of December. Normally, when out among the human race, intermittently freezing and sweltering as I
Home is where the heart is, or so the general consensus seems to be. In many ways I feel like I have come home now, everything has regained some kind of order, the cobwebs no longer have the larger share of the house and there has been a lot of culling of clothes and toys.
I haven't complained, once. Ok, take that sentence out of context and you would have Roger, certainly, raising his eyebrows. What I mean is, despite everything that happened, both from the dangerous to the incompetent and even stretching to the negligent while we were in Great Ormond Street, I never sat down and wrote a