We have returned from France (albeit reluctantly). I had a lovely time, at lots of duck (yum), slept a lot, and tried not to be overly annoying (unsuccessfully). I will publish photos as soon as I can figure out what I've done with the damn digital camera adapter. I think I may have put it in my sock drawer. Don't ask: the sock drawer is a very useful place.
The weather was amazing every day we were away. We explored Bergerac, Perigeoux, and Riberac, which is the closest town to Felard, where we were staying. The Barn belonged to your great-Aunt Linda and when she passed away, she created this incredibly complicated web of ownership. On Tuesday, you father and I stayed at the Barn, carrying one of the sofas outside to read in the warm Autumn sun and to snuggle and argue. We argue; it is our way of showing affection. You need to get used to it.
We got back late Saturday night and on Sunday I was so exhausted I could barely move. This is the thing about being pregnant that catches me off guard: I feel like I can keep up the same pace I did before and then BAM! I hit a wall and collapse like a rag doll. The back pain that seems to doggedly pursue my right shoulder spread to my right arm and it was agony. I spent much of the day in bed, so tired I couldn't even focus on my new mystery novel THE GIGILO MURDER by Mehmet Murat Somer. Can you imagine NOT being able to focus on a murder mystery when the detective is a transvestite hacker?
On Wednesday we went to Great Ormond Street's Cardiac Unit where they spent about 5 minutes trying to coax you out of the tight little ball you'd screwed yourself up into so they could convince themselves there was something wrong with you. But there wasn't. You were so unflawed, the doctor was in shock. He even said that he'd expected to have to give us 'incredibly bad news' and was so happy he didn't. I can't help feeling a bit smug, as I am convinced they just need to let you be. But just in case, we will now be spending a good deal of time in various rooms for ultrasounds, urine samples, and blood tests.
We also met our OB, Dr Fakunde, who seems like a nice man and comes with an entourage. My arch-enemy at Maternity Reception was on he best behavior and. . . wait for it. . . your dad didn't even snap at the doctor. He might be allowed into the delivery room yet. . .