Your birthday was last Thursday. Your papa was in Zurich, looking after the Swiss gnomes. I went to Norwich to stay up late and chat with my friend Ruth before spending the weekend at Turks Hall, mainly, if truth be told, to be near you.
We came home on the Sunday after a very tense weekend. Ruth behaved horribly (beautifully but horribly), the finance is tiring (not in the least because she insists on referring to you as a miscarriage and she knows how heartbreaking they are. . .I finally had to point out that yes, miscarriages are painful. I've had two, thanks. But they are slightly different from taking a 2 day old baby off life-support. Not a nice thing to have to say to one's host but well, the hostess wasn't very nice; more like l'enfant terrible.)
Home now, trying to reacclimate to being unemployed and -- seemingly -- unemployable. I had a fantastic interview at a retailer for an archival project they are doing, feedback positive, etc., expect for one glaring thing: I'm pregnant. Obviously they can't say no work for you, pregnant one. But that's what they meant. So another interview next Monday and we'll just wait to see.
The world moves on, I suppose. But you are always my little darling.