Friday, 27 November 2009

I am not having a heart attack...

Instead, I am having a revolting chest infection.

Well, seems like my brief brush with the IVF drugs side effects appears to have been an illusion/false alarm. I woke up this morning with the worst sore throat and a terrible cough. My chest sounds like a pair of old bellows and I make Mariella Frostrup's voice sound like silken honey. So, did I stay in bed, cover myself in goose fat and collapse in front of endless episodes of Jeremy Kyle?


I did what every person would do whilst pumped full of IVF drugs and feeling like crap... I took 60 kids to the cinema!

Have spent the day wading through popcorn and trying not to cough too loudly. We went to see Disney's "A Christmas Carol" as we're studying the book in class at the moment. I'm actually quite glad because it gave me the best laugh I've had in ages. It was just getting to a really scary, tense part of the film and the music was all creepy and ominous, just before Marley's ghost comes out. It was at this point that the devil got into me and I leant forward and tapped one of the boys in front of me on the shoulder. My god it was so funny, he almost leapt out of his skin! He's the school hard case and he must have shot up about three feet in the air. One of the teaching assistants and I were in stitches. The lad took it in good sport though and just huffed at me, rolled his eyes and moved further down the row out of the way of my mischief. I'm sure it's not in the "guide to good teaching" but it certainly made me almost cry laughing.

We had a fab day out though and the film was amazing. What was not so amazing was 60 kids high on a tonne of sugary popcorn for the rest of the afternoon when we got back. It was like trying to nail eels to a table trying to get any work out of them. My colleague and I gave up in the end and took them outside for an extra bit of PE to try and wear them out at bit. It was like the lot of them were wired up to the mains.

Am now currently at mum and dad's again! Am on their sofa being fed paracetamols and cups of tea whilst I wait for Tom to get back from London. He's been away down there all day and left at 5am, so today's brush with the needle was done solo again.

Actually today was not a great success. After thinking I was getting better at opening the packets of syringes and needles, I discovered that it's like plate spinning... you get one thing sorted and another thing goes wrong.

Today's bodge was when I went to undo the special pen jabby thing that you put the syringe inside. It's held together with a kind of spring mechanism a bit like a clicky biro. I was just trying to hold the cotton wool down on my bleeding leg after the jab when I decided to try and undo the clicky pen thing. What a stupid idea. Only I could try and open a piece of spring loaded medical equipment with one hand whilst my legs bleeds and I am wearing nothing at all except a wet towel on my head. The result was that the thing exploded in a shower of bits of plastic and I ended up with some kind of bullseye scenario when the syringe and needle shot out, flipped over in the air and landed, needle down, in my knee! I then had to sort of continue to stop the bleeding on my other leg, grab the towel that was making a break for freedom over my eyes and blinding me and pull the needle out of my kneecap. All whilst naked. I must have looked fabulous.

I am also shattered because we went to see Jools Holland last night. I don't know what got into me but somehow I managed to fall asleep in front of a 20 piece swing band - oops. Tom assures me I was pleasant but rather quiet company and, after accidentally kicking my bottle of water off the edge of the balcony, we decided it was probably best to call it a night and we sneaked off home. I was so tired I don't even remember getting into bed.

Have got a bit of a rubbish weekend lined up though. Was meant to be going to Tom's work's do but after the consultant laid it on thick about how ill I was going to be, we cancelled my place. However, I feel fine. Oh the irony!

Anyway, my lovely boy is due home any minute so I'll say bye for now.
Thanks again for all your lovely comments.


Wednesday, 25 November 2009

I am having a heart attack...

Well, it feels like it.

This morning wasn't exactly the best start to the treatment. I didn't sleep a wink last night, not because of nerves but because Tom snored like a pig with a loudhaler attached to its snout. I spent most of the night sitting up in bed reading Terry Wogan's autobiography (don't ask...)

I "woke" up this morning and had a shower at about 5am then ate a jam toasted roll and sat there like a loon waiting for 7am to do my first jab.

After humming the casualty theme tune and saying things like "swab", "forceps", "crash team!" I stopped pretending I was an extra from Holby City and suddenly realised I was going to have to jab myself with a needle. My steel like resolve unfortunately corroded and I ended up with two legs made out of dollops of blancmange. I was so wobbly I had to lie down for a minute and it didn't help that Tom was yelling such helpful things as "Come on!", "What's the bloomin problem", "You've been fine up til now" and "You'll miss the deadline and then where will be be!" This ended up in a blazing row with me in a dressing gown wielding a needle and Tom stomping around like a pig with a sore snout (must have been all that snoring). This was even before I'd jabbed myself with the damn thing.

A few hums of a few bars of "eye of the tiger" and the complete blind rage I was feeling at Tom shouting at me when he wasn't the one having to stick needles in him was enough to spur me on into injecting. It stung like crazy when the medicine went in but there was not an immediate "incredible sulk" style transformation at all. I was still me, no shirt ripping off, growling or super psycho powers (yet...)

I went to school as usual and didn't even think anything of it until our nursery teacher crept up behind me and then did this massive growl and yelled "are you bonkers yet!" I nearly had a flippin heart attack there and then but I was unaware of just how much I'd feel like I was having one later on.

I taught all morning and was just in the middle of teaching the finer points of how to use a protractor when I felt as if the Year 6 champion footballer I was talking to had leapt up and suddenly started using my heart for "keepy uppy" practice. My heart was absolutely hammering and I had this chest pain. I held it together until playtime but it kept happening over and over again. I phoned the hospital but all the medical staff from the ACU (assisted conception unit) were in theatre and they said they'd phone back. As yet, no word from them! So, at half three today, i phoned my own GP and asked if it was normal to feel as if my heart was being kicked repeatedly.



One side effect of the drugs is a racing heart, palpitations and chest pain. So, looks like I'm currently escaping the mental sypmtoms and having the physical ones instead. My eyes are blurry too which the doctor says is also normal but if that gets worse I'm not to drive. Oh lucky lucky me. Does make me smile though that I am full of strong drugs which I've been told will send me mad but I feel totally normal... Hmmmmm, what does that tell you!!!!

Anyway, I'm back at my parents' at the moment as it really is very uncomfortable to be sitting on the sofa and yet feeling like you've just got off a treadmill. So, I'm on the receiving end of some tea and sympathy from my Dad whilst my mum's out Christmas shopping.

I'll also take this opportunity to share with you something I did last night which Tom thinks is completely daft. I didn't like the suitcase thing all the drugs came in as it looked too "clinical" so I put all the different things into lots of pretty make up bags and then put all of those into a bright scarlet vanity case. My drugs now look chic and pretty. I also taped a big smiley face on the underside of the lid so that when I open it I see that and a note I wrote to myself. I taped to the underside of the lid the following....

"Smile! Good morning my lovely; you're one day closer to finishing all of this. Here's a list of 5 reasons to smile today.
1. Tom loves you
2. Although you are no supermodel, you do not have a face like a bag of spanners, even if your body feels like a pile of poo
3. You're one day closer to Will and Jo coming home
4. Your teddy and your bed are always a place you can go and hide tonight if it's been horrible.
5. Your mum and dad love you and tea and soup at theirs is only round the corner
Here's 5 things to look forward to if it doesn't work...
1. A cold glass of champagne
2. A delicious G&T
3. Loads of really glam outfits on a shopping spree
4. Snowboarding holidays
5. Cocktails!
Here's one thing to look forward to if it does work...
A baby!"
You may think I'm nuts for doing this but I hated looking at the hospital style boxes and I knew that if things got tough that all that would spur me on to keep chipper. I also wrote a long letter to myself in a very matronly "no nonsense" style and put it in a sealed envelope in the vanity case with the message, "Open me if things get tough".
So, I am now officially nuts as I write letters to myself. I must admit though that it's pretty unnerving already feeling like your heart's making a break for freedom so anything to keep my pecker up is a bonus. Tom's away tonight aswell so I won't see him til tomorrow night. The lovely bloke bought me a big bunch of lilies last night to cheer me up and wish me well. He's also apologised for being Mr Stompytrousers this morning and yelling at me. I think he's just frustrated about having to watch me do all this. Bless him.
Anyway, I'll sign off now and go and begin a bit of relaxing. I was going to go for a run as I missed going last night (It was so windy I thought if I went out in it I was likely to end up like Dorothy in Oz but minus the red slippers and in trainers and a sweaty pair of leggings which would never have been a good look).
So, I'll say bye for now and keep you posted. Thanks for all the well wishes so far; it really does mean a lot.

Tuesday, 24 November 2009

Dear Emma...

Hello me,

I just wanted to write to you to say hello and remind you of your old self. You're currently sitting at your mum and dad's. Your mum is writing Christmas cards and your dad's in the chair reading the paper. Your brother's just texted you from the other side of the world to wish you well and you've received so much support from your friends today. Your lovely Tom has just rung you to tell you he loves you and is on his way home from Birmingham. Your colleagues have been so kind to you today and you told everyone to brace themselves in case you react badly to the drugs.

You've done all your Christmas shopping (except for Tom) and you've had a brilliant day at work getting lots done. Your house is all nice and tidy and you're going for a run later.

I'm telling you this to remind that you are loved, your life is very happy and that if you feel rotten on the drugs and turn into Mrs Shoutycrackers, it's just the drugs not you. If you cry, if you moan, if you shout at Tom, think that no one understands, feel down and hurt and misunderstood, read this and remember the support of today.

Everyone wants you to be well. Everyone wants you to be happy and everyone loves both you and Tom. There is nothing to be scared of in terms of you and Tom, nothing to worry about and everything will be fine, even if you go through the heartbreak of it not working, there are people there who love you

I know you are scared and you are putting on a brave face for everyone but you can cry if you want to. What you're doing IS a scary thing and you don't have to shoulder it on your own. Yes, you might not feel like yourself for a while but think about why you are doing it. You love Tom and you both want a baby and a family so much. You both ARE capable of getting through this and however much it may not feel like it, you will both be fine. Don't push Tom away, if he didn't love you so much, he wouldn't be going through this process.

So my lovely, chin up, we'll meet again when this is all over. I'll be the one holding the smile that might be missing off your face for the next few weeks.

There's nothing you can't tackle our kid.

Take care and I'll see you again soon.


And it's goodbye from me...

Well, what a day. It's time to wish the old me goodbye because as of tomorrow morning at 7am, I'm going to become a different person entirely.

Went to see the consultant today and she said our IVF treatment could be brought forward and that due to my medical problems, we could start IVF early.

Very early.

Tomorrow in fact!

We therefore had a rather gruelling demo of all the injections I have to give myself and a scary horror film of a description in which I was to become the lovechild of Hannibal Lechter and the girl from Poltergeist. Apparently the side effects of the drugs I'm about to start are not dissimilar to a complete head transplant - so much so in fact that when I asked "Does Tom need to attend every appointment with me as we're a bit worried cause he works away a lot" the response was... "It's probably going to be a good thing that he's away..."


I am about to become some needle wielding nutjob with all the stability of an axe murderer on acid. I had the symptoms described as feeling like "an alien has taken over your body" and when I asked if it was just like normal PMT x a thousand was very unreassured to hear that it was not. Apparently this is because your own PMT is caused by hormones your own body makes; the IVF drugs are made in a factory and have never been in a human so it won't feel like you.

Tom kept making jokes all the way through to chivvy me on but got pretty short shrift off the nurse. According to her, ribbing someone and making sarcastic little jokes is likely to tip them over the edge and Tom actually got a real telling off! Looks like I'm doomed then cause my boss is the biggest wind up merchant in the world, my family are a total bunch of comedians and Tom wins the European prize for sarcasm. I'm screwed.

I am now a proud owner of a small suitcase of drugs, needles, a sharps bin and a self administration injection device thing. I look like the world's most organised smackhead. I must admit, the whole thing was a complete shock and I held it together until about half an hour ago when I came round to see Mum and Dad and just collapsed in a rather snivelly heap on the sofa.

I am, as they say in the trade, shit scared.

I was all set for starting in February but apparently we need to strike whilst the ovary's hot and get cracking with my eggs ASAP. I am the equivalent of a McDonald's egg McMuffin - fast food made in moments and makes you slightly sick.

The good news was though that I went back to school and broke the news to all the staff. I explained how if I turned into a hormonal, screaming maniac who burst into tears over nothing every 5 minutes then they were to turn a blind eye. They were all so lovely and supportive and I've had more hugs and well wishes today than when ST left! My favourite comment was from a very very young male member of the teaching staff who shouted "Congratulations!" and then was silenced when I said "Yes, congratulations on being infertile" and my boss shouted "Dig yourself out of that one then my boy!" and it took ages for my little male colleague to realise we were winding him up! Poor soul, he looked so embarrassed.

Anyway, the upshot is that all the staff now know and are battoning down the hatches, pulling on the tin helmets and awaiting the onslaught. My lovely teaching assistant simply said, "I'll stock the back room cupboard with chocolate for you; I shan't tell anyone else where I've hidden it but you just let me know when you need it"... Bless her.

Sorry for the random nature now but Mum just called me outside. She was whooping with excitment shouting, "It's an omen!". Outside my parents' house is the village green and it has 3 huge oak trees. Normally the council don't decorate the green but just now, and for the first time in living memory, the 3 trees are hung with hundreds of fairy lights! The street is now all twinkly and lovely. Mum is convinced it's a sign that the IVF will work. I am convinced it is a sign that my dad will be complaining about paying for lights with his council tax and moaning about them by the end of the week.

However, Christmas will be a busy old time for us this year. My provisional date for embryo transfer is 16th December as long as I respond to the drugs and they can harvest some eggs. If I don't respond then it'll be 21st December. Eitherway there'll be a two week wait after those dates to see if I have a lovely Christmas present or not. The downside is that all over Christmas and New Year I can't really have a drink. A small price to pay I know for the potential of a baby and family but not so great when you think there's only a 27% chance the whole process will work! I actually had a glass of Vana Tallinn last night and Tom was ribbing me today that he hoped I enjoyed it as all being well, it could have been my last drink for the next 10 months.

Anyway, am going to sign off for now. So, when things get a bit mental over the next few weeks or so and I turn into a raging maniac, hopefully I'll remember that I'm still in here somewhere!

Lots of love in the meantime.


Friday, 20 November 2009

Wigs and fish...

I have been hiding in a cupboard....

I do apologise once again for not posting as regularly as usual but I am suffering from extreme embarrassment. A terrible affiction which results in an inability to pull one's hands from over one's eyes and therefore renders you temporarily blind. So, please accept my sincere apologies for seemingly having disappeared off the planet.

So, what I hear you ask is the cause of all the embarrassment and mega-cringing???

I shall tell you...

Do you remember me saying that I was being roped into wearing a pink wing and reforming with another third of Bannerhanger to sing backing vocals at a local bash??

Well, we did.


We were even given a new band name.

It was "Ron. R. Slicker and the Liquettes".

I was a "liquette".


You see, although inside (after a few gins) I believe myself to have the voice of an angel crossed with Dame Shirley Bassey, crossed with Leona Lewis, the truth is that one note of my warbling could shatter a conservatory at twenty paces. The result is that although my mate is actually a fabulous singer and gets requests to sing at weddings, funerals etc, I only get requests to leave the stage promptly and to call an ambulance for the poor souls with perforated eardrums. I had tried to explain this to our friend who was hosting the party but he was having none of it. The result is that I had to don a pink wig, go go boots and a sparkly mini dress and found myself, three sheets to the wind, shaking a maraca and dancing around like a loon to disguise the fact I can't sing.

Now, ordinarily this would have been a private affair but thanks to the medium of technology, I am now broadcast across the world as I am officially on you tube. At first, when I heard of this, I retired to said cupboard and died a thousand embarrassing deaths. Now I am fortunately over the horror and can actually bear to watch it. I have included the link on here; you have to watch it all the way through to appreciate just how bad my dancing becomes and how singularly untalented I am in the performance stakes. I am definitely not destined for a career on the stage. (have a look from about 2 mins 40 for about a minute - pure raw talent...)

I particularly like the way my wig keeps falling off and how we keep having to stop for photos taken by various members of my family and friends. There were some fab costumes there; I know I'm biased but I think Tom's was by far the best. We got him a complete 1966 England strip, including boots and then tied a leather football onto his foot. This meant that the poor sod looked fab (gorgeous legs) but couldn't negotiate a busy party room without getting his feet wrapped round something and almost falling over. He coped with this by sitting with my mate's boyfriend all night and aiming to stack Europe's biggest can mountain from all the lager they were downing.

We were actually rewarded for our "efforts" on stage and were paid with a four pack of babycham which found me, at the end of the night, dancing around on my own and swigging babycham direct from the bottle. I am class.

After getting over the embarrassment (and the hangover) I could now get to grips with the hospital chaos. I had a call the day before we were due to attend our appointment with the consultant to say that we couldn't attend. I was rooted to the spot as I thought we'd been rumbled but apparently the consultant was ill. This has meant that we've had to re-schedule for the 24th (this coming Tuesday) and we'll finally be on our way. I had a long chat with the fertility nurse aswell to let her know that I'm so stressed about not knowing when we'll start. She said that she'd seen our notes and that we were allowed to start the process but that the PCT wouldn't fund any of the surgical side until February so that we can fulfil the relationship criteria. I felt loads better about this as we've truly been living in limbo and not knowing at hat point our lives are going to be turned upside down by the fertility process. It's typical for me to be embroiled in a tricky situation. They said on the open evening that none of the couples there should underestimate just how stressful and difficult fertility treatement could be but at least they know when it's going to start! We haven't even got a clue when it's all kicking off. I guess we'll know for certain on Tuesday so it's not too long to wait.

I've also been being "dutiful daughter" in the absence of my brother and am spending much more time with my mum who is finding Will being gone a terrible strain. He's the apple of her eye and she's finding it tough knowing he's not going to be back until late May/early June and so I've been trying to call in most days to support her. It doesn't help that Will and Jo keep sending CDs of hundreds of photos with them hanging off things, leaping down into things and being thrown off very high things. Poor mum. They do look like they're having a fab time though and they look so happy and healthy - it's brill to see.

I've also been doing the extra round of visits to relatives etc to make up for Will not being there. I'm a slightly less charming (and hopefully less manly) replacement and everyone misses him.

Tom's also run off his feet with his new job; he's loving being back on the pub circuit and he comes home reeking of beer but happy rather than reeking of garlic and hating work.

I've also been up to my eyes in work. I'm running three separate projects for the Local Authority as well as mentoring a student teacher in my class and taking on board all the new headship stuff in preparation for my new role in January. Eek, it sounds pretty scary when I actually write it down.

I have been having lots of little interesting evenings out to counter the work though and one was the other night with my mum. We went to this market research thing where we had to taste all these lasagnes at our local pub. We found ourselves in this strange back room of the pub which I never knew existed (it was like Narnia except that it had more beer taps and bottles of gin). We were sat with 4 other strangers and given labels to wear. Mum was a gammon and mine said "fish". (Always nice to have a label saying "fish" attached to your lapel when meeting new people.) We had to try three different lasagnes and say what we thought about the look, taste, smell, singing talent etc of them all. There was so much paperwork to fill in and my mum hadn't brought her glasses. We kept getting told off too for messing about but it's hard to take it seriously when you're being asked to make written comment on the smell of a bechamel sauce for the third time in 15 minutes in a dimly lit pub where your mum can barely see. It was also enhanced by the random stranger sat next to my mum and who kept banging on about how to swirl wine round a glass correctly. What was really odd was that the three other people on our table turned out to be the best friends of someone I had interviewed and employed the previous week. What a small world. It was actually a case of "what a small table" as by the time we had all three of the lasagnes, all the gammons, fish and chicken from our corresponding labels, as well as the piles of paperwork, there was barely room for a quick game of "hunt the cutlery" to eat the damn stuff to fill in the forms. The good thing was that we got all the food for free, free wine and a ten pound note! Unfortunately, I fell prey to the cunning market research plan and my crisp tenner ended up straight back into the pub till. Oh well, shame to waste it on something sensible.

I have been a very good girl too and have only two more people to buy for for Christmas. I am a sock-ironer of massive proportions when it comes to Christmas and (last year aside for obvious reasons) I love to have all my pressies wrapped, ribboned and placed festively under the tree really early doors. I even have a little notebook which lists all the people I need to buy for and all the ideas I have throughout the year and all the things I have actually bought so far. God, I am a boring cow! So, it gives me more time during the holiday season to concentrate on the important stuff like egg nog, sherry, advocaat, Bailey's and various other Christmas spirits.

I've actually got Tom's work's do coming up next weekend where I'll meet everyone he works with from across the UK and have to meet the big boss. This is combined with an evening of free booze and lots of nerves on my part. I smell a disaster coming on...

Anyway, I'd better sign off for now, I have't even taken my coat off from work yet and I'm due at Tom's about an hour a go! So, I'll say bye for now.

Lots of love and speak soon,


Sunday, 8 November 2009

The climbing, the pig, and the wardrobe...

Hello there,

Well firstly apologies for not being on here for what seems like a year but I've been so so so so so busy that I've barely had time to draw breath.

Tom and I did go up to the Lakes over half term and had a fab, if rather wet and quiet time. I am however, not a convert into the life of rambling and cagoul wearing and if I'm honest, standing in a bus shelter, swathed in waterproof fabric whilst swigging weak tea out of a flask whilst I wait for Tom to come out of a campsite's gents' toilets is not really my idea of a fun day out. Despite the serious amounts of gore tex and foil wrapped sandwiches, we did have a lovely time and I'd thoroughly recommend the house we stayed in if you want a romantic getaway that really is completely secluded.

In fact, it was so secluded that the nearest village was almost 4 miles away which meant that there was no light pollution at all from streetlights so at night it really was pitch black. This led to one of my finer moments when I got up for a pee in the night and spent ten minutes trying to get into the wardrobe and getting in a right palaver as I was desperate for a wee and couldn't work out why the bedroom door was blocked when in fact I had somehow got out the wrong end of the bed and was trying to exit the bedroom through the ruddy furniture rather than the door. There is no situation more likely to induce a blind panic that needing a wee in the pitch dark and not being able to work out why someone has seemingly barricaded you into your bedroom with your own clothing.

In addition to my impromptu hunt for a toilet in a wardrobe, we also did some serious hiking. After watching Julia Bradbury scale one of the local peaks on the TV, Tom decided to ensure that I was totally unable to walk by walking up not one but two peaks in a day. I therefore broke every single nail I had as well as my feet swelling up to the size of a mother's pride sliced loaf as Tom made me scale rivers, scree slopes and walk up near vertical rock faces. He was happy as I've ever seen him and threw himself totally into the world of packed lunches, ordanance survey maps and hiking boots. Needless to say, my own pack up of lipgloss, a hairbrush and a mascara was not as much use when we were on a windswept rocky outcrop. I never want to go up Julia Bradbury's crags ever again.

We did eat some fab food though, my goodness me there's some fab pubs and restaurants up there! We went to the gingerbread shop which was about the size of an airing cupboard and I got trapped in there with a load of Japanese tourists who were all wearing swine flu masks. A huge herd of them trampled in there just as I had bent down underneath a shelf to adjust my swollen feet in my boots and when I tried to stand up again, found myself hemmed in a dozen chattering Japanese tourists in swine flu face masks. How on earth they thought the air quality in the Lakes was so poor as to require a mask was beyond me; my lungs felt as though they'd been sandblasted I had that much fresh air. It took me over 5 minutes to get out of the airing cupboard gingerbread shop and i can assure you that being hemmed in by giant cameras and tourists clamouring for gingerbread is not a pleasant way to end a day up a crag.

We've also been busy getting ready for and then attending a 1960s party where Bannerhanger made had a mini reunion performance. It culminated in me dressed head to toe in sequins, a pink bobbed wig and knee high boots whilst dancing like the Jon and Edward's slightly less talented auntie and shaking an evian bottle full of dried rice. Never a dull moment. Tom was dressed as a 1966 footballer and had the full England kit on as well as an old leather football tied to his boot. This is not to be recommended after you've had a few shandies. Bannerhanger were also very pleased to be paid in Babycham and I ended up dancing around on my own swigging from a mini babycham bottle whilst Tom disowned me and struggled to navigate the dancefloor with a ball tied onto his foot.

As is customary with our family dos, there was a hog roast and we are currently round at my parents' house where my mum has made enough pots of curry, stew and casserole to feed us all for a year and is currently labelling tupperware boxes with such delights as "pork korma" which is going to be a delightful accompaniment to my Dad's sloe gin factory above the dishwasher. He's brewing enough for us all to be in a coma between Boxing Day and New Year so I'll look forward to that.

We're also off to the hospital on Tuesday to find out about our treatment finally. We're still no further forward with getting the dates for the start of our treatment but we're off to see the consultant for the first time since my operation so hopefully we'll get some sort of indication about what's going to happen. Fingers crossed!

Work's totally and utterly mental and I'm getting busier every day but I'm absolutely loving it. Tom's started his new job with his old company and is happy as a pig in Korma so we're both doing pretty well at the moment.

Anyway, I promise I'll be on a little more as soon as work calms down a bit. I've had so many open evenings and parents' meetings lately that I'm thinking of keeping a sleeping bag under my desk.

Thanks again for all the messages and comments.

Lots of love,