All quiet on this front, quite literally. The bruising has turned into an infection which had me off-balance and losing my voice. Finally got a doc to give me some antibiotics so am hopefully on the mend again now.
More when I’ve got my head screwed back on again.
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infection, melanie denyer
I am so relieved. While Monday wasn’t exactly my idea of fun, I’m hoping it was worth doing. In fact, it had better be, because they pulled the damn tube out so roughly I’ve had a sore throat ever since, which now seems to have become infected: enough to wake me up this morning, anyway, which is no mean feat through the mirtazipine and tramadol I took before bed last night.
Anyway, in the absence of any response from my gastro consultant, I’ve weighed up the information and decided to go gluten-free. I can’t think of another test they can perform that would require me to eat gluten and I’m so sick of being ill it was no contest. Had a big pasta blowout with H and S on Monday night, but since Tuesday morning I’ve been gluten-free.
Does this do any good? Well, actually, yes. For one thing, I’m no longer as bloated as I was. Fat I may be, but I was so bloated I looked positively pregnant. Now my boobs stick out further than my stomach again. And while, from past experience, it will take a while for the effects to completely go, it’s caused a reduction in the other gastro symptoms, too.
Of course, the process isn’t yet completely over as I still have to wait for the biopsy results. All I can hope is that they show conclusively that I have coeliac disease, or I won’t be able to get the gluten-free products on prescription, despite the obvious therapeutic benefits. I realise it sounds weird to want a diagnosis of coeliac, but it really would be so nice just to have the answer already.
Two hours to go before the gastroscopy/colonoscopy and I’m getting seriously nervous. Which is daft when you consider I’ve had both procedures before. In fact, I’ve never before been sedated for a gastroscopy, so it should be easier this time. So why am I so bloody twitchy about it all?
H is due into pre-school this afternoon: I’ll be dropping him off on my way to the hospital, since it’s just 5 minutes away from there. And S will pick him up again at the end of the session on his way to collect me, so nothing to worry about on that front.
And, let’s be straight, I’ve been waiting for this for quite some time now, as it’s the only way we’re going to get a clear answer about what’s wrong with me. And I do want that answer, I really do.
What I’m most scared of, I think, is the idea that we may not get an answer. I don’t know how much longer I can go on without some kind of diagnosis beyond the accurate, if not very helpful, “well, we know there’s something wrong with you”. I don’t want to be the poster girl for some mystery gastric condition. After 15 years what I really want is to know what the hell is wrong with me. I’d like to know what it’s like to leave the house and not wonder where the nearest toilet will be. On Saturday, I’d have liked to eat some breakfast before doing our stint for Marie Curie, but I didn’t dare because I had no idea where the closest loo was, and also didn’t want to run the risk of having to run off in the middle of our set.
If you’ve never suffered anything like this, the whole idea of life like this must be quite odd. But when you’ve had diaorrhea for 15 years, 7-25 times a day, depending on how well it’s going, this is how life is. The only thing that has ever helped is going gluten-free, which is the biggest clue we have as to what’s wrong.
Since last October I have been making sure I get enough gluten in my diet to give me a positive blood test, should I be one of the llucky ones who do show up on a blood test. I’m not. But I have carried on eating the gluten because the only way to get a diagnosis is for there to be sufficient damage to my gut when they stick the tube down my throat today. I’m just hoping I’ve eaten enough gluten for it to show. I’ll be royally pissed off if there’s nothing there to see, having gone through hell over the last 6 months.
Arguably, a diagnosis is not all that important, since we already know the way to cure me is to cut gluten out of my diet. Both S and my psychiatrist are desperate for me to get off the gluten, because we know it’s causing problems with my depression. But if I do have coeliac disease, the diagnosis is actually very important. For one thing, I’ve had it for some time, which means I’ll need a bone density scan to check on the effects of calcium malbsorption. For another, I’ll be able to get hold of gluten-free foods on prescription, which is worthwhile considering the cost of the stuff in the supermarket and the fact that, should we move up north, availability of such foods may be limited.
Then there’s the fact that we may want to give H a sibling, and my history of recurrent miscarriage means that will be difficult… so a diagnosis of coeliac disease will mean getting help sooner rather than later, which is not to be sniffed at when you’re already 37 and know your chances of getting pregnant are slimmer by the year.
And finally, it’s a whole lot easier to tell friends and family you have coeliac disease than to try and explain that a mere intolerance should be treated in the same way. I’ve had too many people suggest that just a bit of gluten won’t do me any harm when I was on the exclusion diet, that I know the difference a positive diagnosis will make on that front, too. It doesn’t matter that my future is gluten-free, whatever the diagnosis proves to be. I still have to function beyond the confines of my own home, and that’s easier if I can simply give people a label: it seems it’s the only thing some people will either accept or understand.
Anyway, time to get H ready for pre-school, and then we’re off. Wish me luck.
As friends and family will know, I’ve been going through seemingly interminable tests and examinations in a bid to work out what on earth has been wrong with my gut for the last decade and a half. I’ve had the nice little coverall of IBS applied for most of that period, and I have pushed every five or so years to get another referral to a consultant who might have a new take on the problem. Medical science does, after all, advance, and I’m ever hopeful that I will not have to live the rest of my life with these unpleasant symptoms.
So a couple of years back, in 2007, I had one of my periodic efforts to get the situation looked into once again. I was referred to St Bart’s and the lovely doctor who saw me confirmed that there had been some advances and she was hopeful they could at least try and nail things for me this time. Since the other reason for me trying to sort things out was a desire to lose weight, which is difficult to do healthily when fibre makes your gut go nuts, we also agreed to a dietician consult after all the tests were through.
Fantastic, thought I, and cheerfully attended outpatient appointments for a colonoscopy, a SeHCAT scan, blood tests, fecal and urine samples… you name it, we tried it. The one test to reveal anything interesting, though, was the SeHCAT scan. It was also the most pleasant by far, as all it involves is lying fully clothed in a scanner so they can get a baseline reading, taking a capsule, coming back a couple of hours later to take another reading, then coming back a week after that for the final reading. Non-invasive and utterly relaxing: you’re even allowed to fall asleep if you want.
What the SeHCAT scan showed was that I had severe bile salt malabsorption. Googling it back then didn’t really help, however, as it simply brought up lots of very vague stuff and statistical analyses. But I duly went back to St Bart’s, was seen by a different doctor who told me that the cause of all my ills was my bile salt malabsorption, and all I needed to do was take a certain drug, cholestyramine, and all would be well. I did think to ask what the causes of the malabsorption were, since I knew from past experience cholestyramine did nothing for me, and he mumbled something about maybe getting me tested for diabetes but that, I’m afraid, was that. Pushing hard to make sure that the dietician referral was made, I went off and got my prescription for cholestyramine filled. Let’s just say I still have 2 weeks’ supply of the stuff left and I probably ought to take it back to the pharmacist.
Fast forwarding on a bit, I eventually - after having to kick when they didn’t make the referral - got to see a dietician at RLH. On her advice, I started an exclusion diet to see, first of all, whether it made a difference to my symptoms and, if it did, to work out what the triggers were. The good news was that going on the exclusion diet really did make a difference, and I started feeling human again. The even better news was that we managed to identify four triggers: oats, rye, wheat and barley.
Of course, at this point the alarm bells started ringing, for my dietician and for me. It’s not uncommon for people to be intolerant to one food. It’s somewhat less common for them to be intolerant to two foods. But there’s only one thing that brings up a reaction to the four foods I identified as triggers: coeliac disease.
You’d have thought that, in all this time, they’d have tested me for coeliac disease. And you’d be right. I’ve had the bloods done for coeliac disease on several occasions and each time they’ve come back normal. However, there is a small minority of people who don’t show positive on the blood tests, and diagnosis in those cases is often a lengthier process, largely due to inexperience of the doctors concerned. So I trotted off to my GP and told her what we’d found, and agreed to start eating gluten again for at least 6 weeks so we could conduct blood tests under the ideal circumstances, since I’d been off the gluten for some 3-4 months by that point.
And there began the most unhealthy relationship I’ve ever had with food. Knowing that you’re eating something that makes you ill does not make you feel good. My depression, which had improved greatly while I was off the gluten, took a complete nosedive. For six long weeks I ate gluten until my blood test. Then I had to keep on eating gluten because the next step, whatever the blood test result, was going to be a gastroscopy.
Eventually, I was able to make an appointment to see a doctor about my test results, only to see the practice bully, who was utterly vile to me for daring to make an appointment with him because my normal GP was absent for 3 weeks and I needed to get thing actioned sooner than that. Rather than carrying out what the other doctor had promised, he insisted on making a new referral for me back to St Bart’s, where they would ‘order a gastroscopy if they thought it necessary’. Charming. Still, hopeful that the Choose and Book system would be my friend and get me a swift appointment with the gastros, I was in for a shock. No appointment until the middle of January this year.
And so I came to meet my current consultant, the lovely Prof Kumar. Having had a very thorough first appointment with her, she ordered a joint gastroscopy and colonoscopy so we could see what was going on. The colonoscopy I don’t expect to show us all that much. The last one was fine, after all. But the gastroscopy is a different matter entirely.
I’ve had three gastroscopies to date, but all have been in relation to gastric ulcers, which I also suffer from. Not once have we actually checked the small intestine to see whether there was anything wrong there, but then, there was no need to investigate that if everyone thought I had IBS. So this is make or break time. Either the investigations will show I have coeliac disease or they won’t, but this is the closest I’m ever going to get to an answer.
What do I think the answer will be? Well, if one looks at risk factors and other boxes to tick, here’s where we’re at:
Broadly, if there’s a risk factor or indicator for coeliac disease, I seem to have it.
But back to tomorrow. I’m due this wonderful dual investigation at 1.30pm. Naturally, knowing that I was supposed to be taking various laxatives and so on beforehand, I eventually got round to reading the leaflets and so on at about 5pm. To be fair, I’ve had hideous sciatica for the last three days and hadn’t really had my mind focused on anything much beyond the pain, as I’d run out of tramadol. It was only getting out to the out of hours GP for a prescription that allowed me to be clear-headed enough to even think about preparing for tomorrow.
So at 5pm, I learnt that I should, yesterday, only have eaten foods from a given list. On reflection, I think I probably did only eat foods from that list, so that should be OK. However, what I hadn’t sussed was that I was supposed to have had a breakfast from the approved list at about 7 am, nothing but clear fluids for lunch and then laxatives for afternoon tea and dinner, along with plenty of fluids. Having only just had breakfast before reading the leaflet, this was not good news.
The rest of the problem almost certainly falls into the realms of TMI, so I’ll spare you the details. Let’s just say that, if you’re ever in the situation of waiting for a similar investigation, make sure you dig out the notes at least a couple of days before the big day. It’ll save you the rather unpleasant night I have ahead of me.
But it should be worth it. I may be sedated but I should still be conscious. And while it may sound strange to some, I think a diagnosis of coeliac disease would be a relief: I’d actually be able to treat my condition and heal. Whatever the outcome of the investigations, gluten-free life is where I’m heading, if only because I know that’s what made me feel better for that brief period last year. If anybody’s out there reading this tonight, keep your fingers crossed for me tomorrow. This could be the start of a healthy new life.
…said my husband a few weeks ago. With the recession being what it is, and his business being vulnerable as it’s not providing what most people would consider a necessity, we have to think about what we do if the worst case scenario has to come into play. Hence Germany.
Not that Germany is exactly a bad thing if it comes to doing it. I love the country, S has some family from there, I still have a friend from uni in Hamburg and H is young enough to pick up a new language before he starts school there, should he need to. It could frankly be a hell of a lot worse.
It was at this point that I started wondering why he was thinking of Germany in particular - after all, France makes more sense in so many ways, not least because I’m bilingual French/English and am used to working in France. But there was method to the madness: since I also speak German, S had idly had a nose around some property web sites and discovered that there’s a lot of cheap properties for sale in the former East Germany within an hour of Hamburg and Leipzig. He’s found one in particular that he likes the look of and that we could buy for the princely sum of about 5,000GBP.
The only catch we can see at this stage, having not viewed the property or been able to get surveys done etc, is that the building is listed. But the roof looks sound, the windows seem to be intact and the house next door has had a loft conversion at some point in the last few years, so we’re hopeful the town planners are reasonable people who would prefer the property to be lived in and cared for than left vacant, unwanted and a bit of an eyesore.
So this evening I’ve started looking at what the implications of listing are for us and come across the lovely Anna’s blog. Having had a nose through, I’m full of admiration for Anna and her husband, not least because they’ve actually gone the whole hog and applied for historical monument status. It’s a step further than I would risk taking it, because so much depends on whether your local monuments people are practical about things, or whether they’ll insist - for example - on lime plaster with hair from a specific breed of horse or goat to match the original.
Having started the evening with absolutely no clue about what we might be getting ourselves into, Anna’s blog has definitely made me think the plan is more do-able, so many thanks to her! Now we just have to see what we can find out about the property and whether there is any chance of being able to see inside of it. The owners are based here in the UK, and S found it in the listing of a past auction where it failed to sell, so it doesn’t seem to be listed with an agent in the way properties usually are in the UK. Arguably, for no more than 5K, it almost doesn’t matter what state it’s in, but since we’d be talking about moving the whole family out there, it would be good to be able to make sure that there was running water, electricity and all that good stuff before pitching up with our cases and shiny new door keys.
The more I think about it, the more I like the idea. The house is in a small town near a lake and a river, not more than an hour from the nearest airport for flights back to visit family, and we would own it outright, having only to pay any property taxes or local taxes on top of the asking price, then sort out whatever the German system requires in the way of income tax and social security payments. If this is the worst case scenario…
…bring it on!
m xxx
It’s been lovely to see that I’ve had a few more visitors to the blog this week, thanks in no small part to a name-check in an oDesk newsletter, which was a welcome surprise. But I did get one less than welcome comment in my inbox that got me thinking. You know who you are and where you’re from, so I won’t bother naming you publicly, but let’s just set the record straight: oDesk don’t pay me to write puff pieces for them or to link to them. Anything I write here is my own opinion that I have reached with the application of some thought - this is perhaps the one place where my pen is not for hire.
However, I can see how it may be frustrating for people if they’ve been on oDesk for a while and have yet to pick up their first job. I’m only a month into using the site myself, so I’m hardly an expert, but I do seem to be achieving a pretty good strike rate with my candidacies so here - for what it’s worth - is my approach to applying to jobs on oDesk.
This is not an exhaustive list - I’m quite sure something else will occur to me once my head hits my pillow tonight - but it should hopefully provide a good place to start. Feedback is always welcome, and it would be lovely to hear that this had helped someone get themselves work 
Happy freelancing!
m xxx
It’s been a long old day. Now, that may partly be down to the hangover I earned at last night’s pancake party. OK, it may in large part be due to that. But it’s also down to a very long day staring at my computer screen.
I’ve been busy on a couple of things today. The first is another oDesk assignment, this time to restructure and rewrite a web site for someone as well as, almost certainly, revising and updating their eBook. That’s been a fun one, because writing for eBooks is like travelling to another planet if you’re used to more traditional principles of writing, and the web sites that promote them are equally alien to someone who’s been more used, in the past, to sorting out gorgeous sites for big blue-chips and small arts facilities.
My inner red pen has had to be quite seriously suppressed throughout this process. All I’ve allowed it to do so far is pick up spelling and grammar errors and factual inaccuracies. And it’ll have to make do with that for the time being, because I am preparing to write some of the most cringe-worthy copy I will ever have seen.
And yet, joking and snobbishness aside, this is copy that apparently works and sells an awful lot of eBooks. The thought is frankly terrifying to anyone who has ever striven to write good, readable copy that is easy on the eye and communicates clearly, effectively and with a minimum of fuss… and absolutely no badgering, hectoring or gratuitous repetition of spurious ‘facts’ to get the message across. And I’m quite concerned that there are people out there who will fall for that kind of copy.
But while it’s easy for me to look down my nose at this kind of thing, I took the job on because I was curious and this gave me a chance to have a look at this world from the inside out. My finely-honed literary mind has been bent not on great novels but on the reasons behind the use of language, the repetition, the presentation of arguments and - believe it or not - HTML elements to create a text that not only sells but gains high page ranks in Google. Notwithstanding the fact that the site is written in appalling non-native English at the moment, there is a clear logic behind the content and structure and it’s been as much fun analysing that as I used to have in uni days analysing Balzac: it’s trashy, but there’s a native wit you’ve got to admire.
The other project I’ve been working on is rather closer to home. We’re about to launch a new web site for the Rag Factory, so I’ve been grinding away at the copy for that and loading it into the new CMS. I will admit to being utterly smitten with the CMS, which is Concrete5. It really is one of the best examples of what good programming can achieve in terms of user-friendliness and the ability to simplify tasks that lesser content management systems make hideously complex.
So while it’s been exhausting, it has probably, overall, been a good day, so I’m going to quit while I’m ahead and say goodnight.
OK, I admit it. An old friend googled me the other day - no idea why, I think he knows where all the bodies are buried - and happened across the site. I’m the first to admit that my site is a work in progress, but I admit he has a point. He remarked that it was a remarkably empty site for a writer.
I set this site up for a few reasons. One was that I wanted to have a play with Wordpress, so this is something of a sandbox activity for me while I get used to it, knowing that it’s not going to be getting huge traffic while I work out what I do and don’t want to do with it.
Another reason was that I have friends and family all over the world and this will hopefully give them a chance to see what I’m up to if they wish, whether or not they’re on Facebook. It also means that people I used to know at school can take an educated decision on whether I sound like the kind of person they want to know now, before they get in touch with me on FB. There’s nothing worse than having someone be all enthusiastic at finding you, only to have the distinct impression that the post-reunion response is ‘why in hell did I think that would be a good plan?’ What can I say - sometimes there’s a reason people don’t keep in touch.
And the other reason for putting together the site was because I’ve been getting back into the freelancing. Some of it has been via oDesk, most other things have been with long-standing clients who now know I’m back in circulation. But in general I wanted to be able to post samples of my writing for existing and potential clients to see.
Of all these things, all I have currently succeeded in doing is posting occasional blog entries. Which is pretty shabby for a writer, I know. And I apologise. But please, be happy for me: the reason I’m not getting more articles and other stuff up here is because I’ve got lots of work on
I’m going to remove some bits of my site that are currently content-free zones to make life more simple for anyone visiting, but I promise to put some work into the other parts of my site behind the scenes, ready to unveil them in the next couple of months.
m xxx
Well, today’s schedule was supposed to involve collecting S’s passport from the Passport Office, making sure all the suitable laundry was done and start packing to go on holiday on Tuesday morning. As you’ve probably gathered, this is not happening, or why would I mention it?
Sadly, it looks like we will now not be going on holiday for the 10 days we had planned. It would have been our first holiday in four years - the last was our honeymoon in Budapest - and I was genuinely looking forward to it. So, I think, was S, but we’ve decided this is really not the best time. Not only is the economic climate having an effect on the RF, there’s still physical work required on the place to give it a fighting chance of making it through , and that won’t happen without S being here. Likewise, getting someone else to babysit the place while we’re away would cost a fortune if we wanted someone who could be trusted to be there for all the necessary hours, and that’s money we really need to spend on other things. And while I may be sad about this, it’s definitely the right decision for us to have taken.
Of course, it begs the wider question of how we ever get to take a holiday, moving forward. The same issue of getting cover will still apply unless we’re prepared to block a week out of the diary in advance and simply close the place down for the duration. This more or less means committing to a week in August, however, since that’s the quietest time of the year: all the Edinburgh shows will have finished rehearsal and we could probably take a week at the beginning of the month, before the September productions start rehearsing. So maybe that’s the answer.
In the meantime, it feels a bit rough to have made all this effort to get passports sorted for everyone, only to not need to use them. I’m considering taking H on a day-trip to France, since the trip will pay for itself if I buy some cigarettes for S while I’m out there, and it gives me a chance to get back to a country I love and haven’t visited in close on 8 years. I can also buy books and DVDs for H to help him learn the language, find a decent boulangerie and eat my last ever French gluten, etc.
Ho hum. Having come back to this some time later, what really strikes me is that I am not desperately upset about missing out on a holiday, nor have I any desire to throw a fit of the sulks. Which means this is clearly the right decision, however sad. I shall instead make preparations for a lovely Valentine’s meal for S, H and I - I’m sickening for dim sum, so it may be time we did that again. Holidaying at home may not be such a bad idea after all
Incidentally, I tried calling Ryanair to cancel our flights. After all, even if we can’t use them and know we won’t get a refund, that doesn’t mean nobody else has a use for our seats. And I’m one of those who prefers to be courteous and notify people if I’m unable to be where I’m expected for some reason. Well, not according to Ryanair. They told me they had a ‘no-cancellation’ policy and that there was no need for me to have contacted them. So there’s still time for us to change our minds if we wish, or to change the names on the tickets if someone else wants to use them, so by all means get in touch if you fancy flying to Perpignan from Stansted on 17 Feb and returning on 28 Feb. There’s doutbless a fee - isn’t there always? - but I have three tickets gathering electronic dust.
Over the past few weeks I’ve been thinking it was time to get started working again. Lots of potential upsides, it goes without saying, but since I don’t really want to put H into nursery full-time and I look like a bag of spanners on the best of days, a traditional job that needs me to go into an office somewhere is probably not going to be the best option.
On the other hand, I don’t really want to be doing Avon sales, or Innovations catalogue sales or similar because that still involves going out and the psoriasis is making me far too self-conscious for anything but handing over money at the average checkout. And it’s been so long since I moved in some of my previous circles that I really don’t have current contacts. All the recent stuff I’m allowed to talk about (no NDA, no Official Secrets) has been for S and his various ventures, so hardly an objective reference, even if the work I did was good. Ah, what to do?
The only thing I’d been doing on even a semi-regular basis was writing articles on Helium.com. It’s a great site and has had the virtue of giving me the courage to get off my backside and write again. Some articles I’ve written because there was a gap in their database I could fill, others have been in their weekly writing competitions, where I’ve picked up the odd prize. Pretty much all of them have earned me some click-through revenue in Helium’s revenue-sharing model, and it’s nice to be able to withdraw those funds to Paypal from time to time.
The kicker is that I only wrote a couple of the articles with SEO in mind, just to see if I could still do it. Which is fine, since the two articles are ranked 1st and 2nd respectively for their keywords. It’s no coincidence, therefore, that my article revenue on those pages is good. So I set to thinking. I can either optimise my other articles on Helium, submit the changes, and get only a share of the increased revenue, or I can rewrite them and post them on here. Or I can rewrite them and post them to another site that gives me Adsense boxes on my articles with my own Publisher ID taking the revenue.
And then I had another thought, which is that all the Adsense and Helium revenues take a while to start flowing, and would require a major volume of articles to make a living from. Was it time to stick my head above the parapet and see if someone would simply pay me to write things for them? Like they used to in the good old days?
This has a lot of merits in theory: work as much as I want, when I want, with visibility over how much I’ll get paid and when. But it also brought me back to my previous thoughts about the lack of a current network. Ahem. Well, thank God for the internet! I’ve been so lacking in confidence it had never occurred to me that someone might be prepared to hire me without a personal recommendation for this kind of stuff, even though I objectively know that this happens every day to other people. Gulp.
And so, with a little scouting about, I decided to experiment on just the one site, to see what kind of response I might get. The site I chose was oDesk, largely because it had a few jobs listed I thought I might be able to do.
For those not familiar with oDesk, it’s a neat little site that puts providers and buyers in touch with each other and allows them to give mutual feedback to help future clients/providers make an educated decision about who they want to use. Since each assignment also adds to your online CV, you gradually build up a body of work that also helps people see what you’ve been capable of before, and allows you, I suspect, to push your hourly rate up a bit.
The upside is that anyone can join in, and there are tests you can take to make up for a lack of oDesk experience. The downside is that established buyers often won’t look at newbies for jobs, and the openness of the system - membership is free - means that there are many people offering their services for all kinds of jobs for which they aren’t qualified, so you have to try that much harder to get yourself noticed. Also, competition from people in India and the Philippines lowers the pay rate and perceived value of some activities, so you don’t necessarily get as much as your experience might normally be worth.
However, the economy is in recession, the work is convenient, and you can pick and choose what you apply for, so the balance seems pretty good.
In the week since I joined oDesk, I’ve applied for some 20 jobs, and I am overwhelmed by the response. Of the jobs I’ve applied for, 25% have taken me as far as shortlist stage: one buyer has said they want to use me in the future on a different project, 2 have given me jobs and 2 have taken me to shortlist and will be letting me know in the next couple of days whether I’ve got their gig. And one other will be interviewing me at the end of February for an ongoing part-time job.
To say I’m gobsmacked would be something of an understatement. I’ve ‘met’ some great people already, whether it’s Dip, who shares my love of research, Tom, who shares my sarcastic sense of humour or Emma, who not only has a similar sense of humour, but also some of the same professional experiences. It’s been hugely encouraging, and I’m gradually gaining in confidence.
So hello world. You’re no longer talking to a full-time mum, you’re talking to someone who makes their living as a writer again. How good did it feel to write that?!!!
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March 27, 2009 
