It's been a mad few days. Today I think the phone has rung at least every half hour. Silly things like the therapy-merry-go-round, more organisational calls, general chit chat calls, confirmation of things confirmed ten minutes ago and then cancellation calls to cancel the confirmed call. And so on.
I am entertained by the Telegraph's article. Something tells me the journalist may have been reading this blog - hello, Cassandra! According to the article, I call Imogen Mog. In fact, here is the only place I call Mog Mog. Perhaps naively, I thought that keeping the girls' names out of the blog, and using my nickname rather than my full name, would give us a modicum of privacy. I think that went out of the window with the first bit of publicity. I'm not complaining, just trying to adjust.
But I do like the idea that I call Mog Mog out in the wider world. If someone got that from reading this blog, I feel I owe it to you to confess that Little Fish's name is not actually Little Fish. The thought I might use these internet nicknames in speech has been amusing me. Can you picture it? "Little Fish, Little Fish, put down that spoon". "Let me cuddle that Little Fish". "I need to put the Fish to bed now". School registration - Angela? Here miss, Danielle? Here miss, Emily? Here miss, Little Fish? Little Fish? blublublublublub.
Some busyness and some silliness, and now to put it all into perspective some seriousness - pray for Jophie. If he's not in theatre at this very moment, he will be shortly. Trina has posted an update with more information. We're facing a minor upset to our normally quiet lives. Jophie's treading the tightrope between life and death.