'Can you feel it yet? Can you feel it moving?' For the past couple of weeks this has been the question on everyone's lips. The answer at first was 'no, it's a bit early yet' followed by 'no! it's so annoying!' and then 'I don't think so...' Mum says it feels like a funny swooshing kind of movement, and the doc tells me he's heard it's a bit like butterflies fluttering around. Other women have continuously told me 'bubbles! it's like bubbles in there.' The thing is when I think of bubbles, I think of clusters of small airy bubbles, dancing about, floating in the breeze. I don't think of big gassy bubbles slowly seeping up through thick layers of mud, suddenly popping at the top and splattering drops of gloopy ooze all around. Which, to be honest, is more like the kind of thing I'm feeling in there. We saw three magpies in the park today. Ten days and we'll know if they were right... or maybe the scan will j...
I was holding a slumbering baby in my arms, looking out of our bedroom window at the snowy scene, when the car pulled up. I didn't think anything of it at first - we often get people parking outside our house - but when the two men got out, I started to take notice. There was something odd about the way they were walking; with purpose but slowly. They were both dressed in dark clothes and looked determined, as if they were actors in a film. The first guy looked back at the second and pointed towards our house. The second walked towards me, through the entrance to our front garden and towards our garage door. I started. What was he doing coming in through our garden? Suddenly I noticed a thumping in my chest and an urge to run. I went through to the bathroom where Marek was showering. 'There's a man trying to get in our garage!' I told him. He turned off the shower and looked at me 'what?' 'There's a man in our front garden' I said. 'It looks ...
We are at a family reunion. I am speaking with one of my Dad's cousins, when Molly appears, and watches our conversation with interest. 'Hello!' the cousin says, and I introduce Molly. 'How old are you Molly?' She holds up three fingers. 'I have a granddaughter the same age as you then! Poppy is three.' Molly looks up at her, confused by the term granddaughter. 'Is that a boy or a dog?' * * * We are at the Center Parcs pool. Six little girls from our family splash in the water, and Molly separates from the crowd to watch a baby playing with her mother. She leans down and starts smiling at the baby. 'Hello Baby!' she says, leaning a bit close, and not being at all careful about where she's splashing water. I wander over and suggest she doesn't crowd the baby, who is happily ignoring Molly. 'What's it called?' Molly asks the mother. 'Freya' the woman says, 'she is called Freya.' 'T...
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