I feel a bit squidgy inside, gooey almost. It’s not from the glut of Easter eggs that I have eaten (that has been hampered by the fact that there seemed to be an Easter egg shortage in Hertfordshire this year) but because of fluff, and newborn-ness and big eyes and wobbly, unsure legs. Shall we
When it’s quiet I can hear myself think. It’s a useful tool for checking that my brain is still there and functioning beyond merely barking out orders at whatever child or animal is choosing to ignore me at the time. It’s also why I’m normally chronically sleep deprived, now more than ever.