So, M's bigger, I'm wrinklier (and it's definitely not just the result of sitting in the bath for ages), and we have a house. Phew.
Funny, how time suddenly speeds up when you have a baby. I could have *sworn* that it was only a week since I last posted, but I've just checked and it's actually a month. Oh bugger. It's a direct contrast to being pregnant, let me tell you, which actually went on for what felt like years. Decades even. It was interminable.
Anyway, back to the daily grind. Which just gets weirder. Take bank holidays, for example. They used to be great, but now are very annoying. I never thought I'd say this, but they are (apart from the fact that R gets a free day off work). Everything is either (a) shut or (b) open but shuts dead early, and (c) is full of people who should be at work. Except, bizarrely, Fenwicks. To which emporium of delights we hoyed ourselves this afternoon because it was raining, we have a small child and we needed to get out of the house. Strangely the place was deserted, apart from the standard-issue ladies of later years who always staff every counter. I can't quite believe that all of Newcastle has renounced shopping and taken up knitting or visiting art galleries, but you never know.