There are only twelve days left until Little Miss' due date. Not that that means very much, really; 37 weeks is classed as 'full-term' and she could go as far two weeks late before the hospital decides to coax her out! So sometime in the next three and a half weeks, there should be a small person putting in an appearance. Theoretically. On the basis of the unpredictability of this event, I am attempting to occupy myself with Other Things...
Can anyone please tell me how it was possible for me to write ten chapters of a novel in two and a half weeks in November, but has taken nearly two months to write one chapter since then? OK, there was moving back to England, a stolen handbag, journeys north, a brief trip to Bruges, Christmas and New Year, but that only accounts for a few weeks - what on earth did I do in January? A lot of eating, hormonal weeping and general fannying on, it seems. So I now have ten days before Giles comes home for paternity leave (fingers crossed) to write two chapters and an epilogue. Talk about making things difficult for yourself.
Wedding preparations are trundling merrily on... after abortive and disappointing attempts to find a suitable dress that will accommodate post-baby belly and giant milk-producing boobs, my mum suggested a salwar kameez - an inspired idea. Elegant and roomy! Who could ask for more? Giles is on the lookout for a foxy Nehru jacket to complement the look. Bespoke rings are ordered, restaurant booked for a jolly nice lunch afterwards and all seems to be going according to plan. Watch me go into labour on 27th...
