Being a parent is a bit like being on drugs. Instead of salvia or speedballs it happens to be sleep deprivation and adrenaline, but the net result is the same, so although it's a constant stream of highs and lows I'm never quite sure, when I come to explain it to other people, whether it's not just a function of me being stoned out of my mind on
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My housemate (recently moved out) is about a week from her sue date, which is exciting and terrifying. I think I'm going to be begging babysitting duty to escape work!
We were looking at babyname websites - she quite likes the idea of a Germanic name, something along the BEAR or WOLF or THOR lines, for a boy - one of the sites listed, under Alrthurian Legend, Grifflet. Her partner's surname is Rigler: how amazing is Grifflet Rigler as a name? That's what I'm calling it, regardless of sex or actual name.
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I just spent Sunday reading all of Alan Furst's latest novel Mission to Paris and getting swozzled on gin'n't's. I finished the book - a return to form after his last lackluster one - and am now going back to Colm Toibin's essays and a whole pile of other library stuff.
Clementine is bootiyuful. xxx to her and H.
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Truth is I'm not very into fiction recently. I just keep drifting over to history and essays/bios.
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I'm also still reading Black Lamb & Grey Falcon....
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