We’re not here

We are, in fact, there *points northwards*

Well, we will be.

H has just this minute told me we may well not have any internet access when we get there.

I have screamed like banshee stepping barefoot on a lego brick at three in the morning.

Very well then. We will be back in civilized parts on Sunday the 30th of May. If you don’t hear from me before then, dinna fash yersel’*. If you don’t hear from me after then either, fash away like anything.

In my possible (and enforced) absence from internetland, a) I shall turn 34 – same birthday as Queen Victoria and Bob Dylan, dontcher know – and b) it will be the anniversary of the miscarriage. The fatal scan that proved Pikaia was utterly dead was on the 27th, three days after my 33rd birthday. It will be an interesting holiday. Which is why we’re going on it.

*Proper Northern for ‘don’t worry yourself’.

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