Day 8

What a day. I knew this morning would potentially involve some degree of hanging around and stress as it involved a child and the hospital, but in an uncharacteristic moment of positivity I had hoped it might not be too bad. How wrong that positive thought was (and proves my lifelong theory that “fear the worst and it normally won’t happen”).

Two hours at the hospital with A being examined, x rayed, pulled around, examined some more and then the upset of moulds being made of her teeth. Not fun for her at all. Definitely not fun to watch and try to make light of. Icing on the cake was being told another extraction is needed and it’s not a wobbly one so will mean more injections. Oh help!

I am in much need of some happy. And here it is.


My dear old friend and all time happy book (I know it’s not a happy book – it’s a dark story of secrets and lies) but it’s my favourite story of all time and I can always rely on it to take me away. So I’m hunkering down with my namesake and the smouldering Mr Rochester. Good night x


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