Tuesday, July 10, 2007



I have finished the draft of my article and will send it to the editor tomorrow. I took my Dictaphone to see friends last week (go, girl reporter!) and taped them talking about their baby experiences. Went to play it back yesterday and found I had taped over the whole interview. The tape now played my phone interview with a Tresillian nurse – not her end, just mine. It goes something like this:

So what’s the difference between post-natal depression and baby blues then?
(pause)
Oh, right..
(clattering typing noises)
(pause)
Oh, so...
(Long pause)
(clattering typing noises)
That’s interesting.

Etc, etc.

Mum and Dad made a mammoth effort to come down yesterday and look after Ivy while I worked. ‘We'll catch the train’, they decided. ‘Lovely, scenic trip...’ Three hours later, they arrived. The train had been replaced by buses, rain and wind was pelting down and they looked miserable. Above and beyond the call of grandparent duty. Still, Ivy was very excited to see them both and and I managed to get lots written.

Thanks again Mum and Dad- you are the greatest.

Mum also helped Ivy start drinking formula from her cup - so now I've dropped a breastfeed from her day. My boobs haven’t yet got the message to slow production though. This morning they woke me painfully at 6am. I looked like Victoria Beckham after she’s been on ‘holiday’ and come home ‘refreshed’.

Keith is playing 12 games of online chess at the minute. Last night he spent an hour deliberating over one move. Ivy has starting making 'brrrmm bbrrmmm' noises...maybe she will be a revhead? A feminist revhead? A feminist revhead musical theatre star? One can only dream.

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Thanks for talking to me. I don't got cooties. Oh, except for when I got cooties.