Well, she’ll come when she’s ready–which wasn’t last Wednesday and probably won’t be today, which is the due date reckoned by the hospital. Actualy, the due date reckoned by us (which, of course is the *correct* one) is next weekend. Maybe she’s waiting until then so as to validate our calculations. 🙂
Anyway, it’s a strange period, fluctuating between anticipation and anti-climax and accepting “good luck”s from everybody.
A lovely day today, by the way; sitting out on the patio writing this — a patio of pristine concrete, thanks to Mike’s recent deployment of his pressure cleaner. Isa, irrepressible as ever, trekked into town today to buy sequins and lace and other stuff. The derth of such items in Crouch End is causing her to consider opening a haberdashery. Sounds good to me.
Mum and Dad are installed (largely by themselves) in their new home and escaped the tyranny of boxes for the afternoon by walking down to the sunny village harbour where some kind of fête was taking place.
