To sum up the end of my thirty-eighth year:
- A Wedding in December
- Gentlemen and Players
- Sleeping Arrangements
- Twenty-one locks
- Eat, Pray, Love
I had the most disastrous of disastrous interviews (following a truly awful presentation) a week ago today.
There have been the occasional instances of more than five hours consecutive hours of sleep.
The boy has refused to eat many delightful things cooked for him by his mother - although he did finally condescend to eat some of a chicken and apple ball the other week (these took an inordinate amount of time to produce).
I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. The current favourite is Nursery Nurse. Possibly just because I am jealous that I pay people to look after my son whilst I sit at home in front of a stoopid compooter-pooter. But possibly not.