2nd March 2017

Dear Catrin,

It’s 4am in the spare room. There is just a blind in this room, no curtains, it’s strange how you think that a blind is fine in a spare room. I’m awake earlier than usual, been on and off asleep for most the night coughing, the last lingering vapours of the illness that has been 2017 so far.

I have a telescopic ladder, a large car seat and a wealth of vacuum packed items of clothing for a small child as companions. I have a compulsion to erect the ladder and scamper up into the loft to check baking trays placed to catch drips. I’ll do it later.

As I stare at the illuminated outline of the window, I kind of get to thinking, if I spend my life waiting and hoping for BIG to pop the question will it be too late? Something about shoes…etc

You are travelling, 10years later than most, hopefully with more street smarts. The appreciation of vistas, culture and general wonder will be greater. I am jealous but I don’t think I could have fit my comforting 1000 TOG blanket of negativity, anxiety and mild depression in the rucksack you never returned. I also could not be somewhere that I didn’t know everything about before everyone else. That’s the wurst.

Am I nervous? Am I anxious? Always anxious in life, new people, confined spaces with new people, meeting with people who don’t grasp the concept of personal space. Anxious now? About the child? Naaaaa. No sweat. Nervous?? Double naaa. What is it they say, “don’t sweat the big stuff, worry about the small things that keep you up at night and everyone else has forgotten about but you can’t let go”

I can’t stop this happening, there will be child. I’ve worried for months about the foolish drunken purchase of some ornamental ferns that cost £13.78 off of eBay while I was watching Jurassic park. They died once Planted. But I’m so happy to say I saw some fronds poking through last weekend.

I’m kind of excited, I kind of can’t wait. But I’m also kind of numb. It’s a strange thing imminent fatherhood.

Many loves


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