It has been a long week, five days holiday with the kids in full activity mode, instantly followed by a fabulous hen weekend.
Much fun has been had but it has also left me feeling a little battered and run down. My nose is streaming and I am feeling a bit sorry for myself.
In recent years I have slightly misled my children. Avoiding the whole conversation about where babies come from and how they actually trundle down the birth canal has always been a focus of mine and he who helped create them.
When BB was born, twin girl was full of awkward questions but was easily fulfilled by a quick glimpse of the bandage on my stomach and was happily comforted in the knowledge that babies were simply lifted from your tummy and then a doctor glued you together again.
Someone asked me today if my daughter was handicapped.
They didn’t ask if I was having a nice day or even say good morning, they merely approached me in the shop and asked the question “Is she handicapped?”
So let me paint the picture.
It’s a bright sunny day, the birds are trilling in the trees, winter jackets have been shunned for summer shorts and frocks and all is well with the world.
Yoohoo…
Are you there?
I think there is interference on the line… I am trying to reach Jane Blackmore?