Our lovely little boy kindly slept for ten hours continuously last night for the first time. Perhaps he knows it’s a big day. Unfortunately, I stayed awake for hours worrying about how the day will pan out, imagining all the things that could go wrong, and getting quite frightened of standing in front of 100 people.
When I started writing this blog, I had nothing but exercise, work and books in my life. I wrote about all these things I did as I rather aimlessly bounced from job to job, and from one topic to another. Partly, I did enjoy that existence as it was quite similar to my childhood, always moving schools, getting settled in houses we loved only to go somewhere else. It was also unsettling, and I never felt any sense of calm. You always had to impress a whole new set of people, so you never felt accepted for any more profound reason than being pretty and good at sport – I’m afraid that applies as much to the playground as it does to every job I have had.
So I’m getting married. In all the running around having a baby and worrying about the table plan that the last nine months has involved, I do of course feel as if I’ve forgotten that I am promising to have and to hold my husband until death do us part. Given that our son is currently at my breast, and we own a lovely house together, I do wonder whether the vows will make me feel any more committed than I already do. I was very keen to be married before we had the baby, because it felt so insecure having nothing to signify permanence.
So this turns out to be a dull topic to write about, and conrad has just filled his nappy loudly. It’ll be a nice day, Edinburgh weather is supposedly sunny, and by this evening perhaps I will have arrived at my destination.
The resting writer 
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