Item – Hello. Life goes on. Aten’t dead. Tralala.
Item – Valentine’s Day was nice. H and I gave each other chocolate from the same fancy chocolate store (that was amusing, swapping identical gift-bags). We took the afternoon off and went to an exhibition, happily geeking out together. H gave me a sweet card. I wrote him a poem. (BTW, writing poems will get you laid on Valentine’s Day. Word). We are probably making you feel a little ill. Sorry about that.
Item – I didn’t go and get my oestrogen/FSH test on day 3 of my cycle, because a) it was still snowing (making public transport Officially Tiresome), and b) I still felt like shit. Next time, eh?
Item – My mother and I were invited to dinner by an old friend of hers (that, is, an old friend of my mother’s), ostensibly to see her daughter (I was friends with her at school but hadn’t seen her for about ten years (she moved to another hemisphere and got married, you see)) who was back in the country for a couple of weeks. My school-friend has a very beautiful toddler, who, despite the fact her body-clock was completely cockaleekie with jetlag, behaved adorably for the entire refusing-to-go-to-bed evening. And the scenario was, friend and I would talk incessantly with hand-gestures about all our old mutual friends and acquaintances, also our respective spouses and no doubt about the beautiful toddler, while our mothers talked about their respective mutual friends and acquaintances incessantly with hand-gestures also amiable grandmothering anecdotage. Good plan, eh? I was mostly uneasy at having to fend off the ‘where are your beautiful toddlers?’ queries while being stuck in a room with My Mother The Overshare Queen. Actually, in the end, what ganged agley was my friend’s mother, who talked so very much, so very dominantly, that the rest of us got not a word in edgeways. Not. A. Word. It was a bravura talkathon. I think she must have been breathing through her ears. And she talked exclusively about Fascinating Things She Did In Her Younger Days. Don’t get me wrong, they were fascinating things and she is quite the adventuress, but, I swear, the rest of us said nada. And I have no idea what my old friend is doing for a living, or how any of our mutual acquaintance are, or if she likes Doctor Who or anything and what’s more, she hasn’t a clue what my husband’s name is yet. I wish now I’d turned to her and said ‘I saw a pub just round the corner. Quick, let’s run!’ Eheu.
Item – Oh, wait, apart from the bit, a couple of drinks in, when my mother and her mother discussed all the adopted children (now grown up) they know of who have massive psychological problems. I have no idea how they got onto the subject (I had gone to the loo) and I had no idea how to get them off the subject, and, seriously? the issues? were nothing to do with being adopted, poor kids, and pretty much everything to do with having been adopted by jackasses. Point surprisingly hard to make, considering that my hostess was friends with a good handful of said jackasses. So I discussed Sesame Street with the beautiful toddler instead, and we agreed that Big Bird is really big, also yellow, and this is very funny.
Item – H and I are going to my mother’s for the weekend. Where we will do a dance workshop (the fuck? when did I sign up to that?), and also meet new baby cousins. As I am grouchy emotional Lord of the Dorks at the moment, I predict this will end in Awkward.
Item – I have nothing to say about IVF at the moment, not because I have no opinion, but because I have about 27 flatly contradictory opinions and 56 caveats to boot. I’ll have to get back to you on that.