The Blog That Time Forgot

Actually, I wish I had forgotten about my blog, but since April and all that moving to the other side of the planet business I have been feeling terrorised by the blog. "Must blog about this," I have thought. An awful lot. At 3am, mainly. Once I even got out of bed, went downstairs, made tea  (loose leaf, in a pot, which you will understand if you've ever tried Australian teabags) and prepared to sit down at the laptop. But it is very cold in Melbourne and the house makes noises that I cannot be sure about yet so I went back upstairs and lay quietly with The Girl for a while.

I don't know what's different about today. It might be that this life is starting to feel more real. Some very friendly, very stocky men delivered our sofa this morning. I went for a walk without getting lost. The Girl has a place at nursery. The Boy is no longer sleeping in a 'travel cot'. The Australian is holed up in his office working Aussie hours as well as UK ones. I have been doing quite a lot of homely things - things I used to put off in London to make way for blogging and writing and sitting by the laptop waiting for someone to reject my novel.

The truth is that I am bored of the homely things. The washing and the scrubbing and the preparation of different meals for different palates, and the picking up of squashed bits of said meals from the polished floor. So I'm back. Only, I think to make sense of everything I am going to have to blog about April's goings-on before I catch up with May. Because if you don't know where to begin, you should begin at the beginning.

Tomorrow.