I’m back!! Well sort of. I’m now posting from Londenium-it’s amazing what you can do with modern technology. Then I’m going back to Leeds for a night (this was the result of total (and worryingly normal) lack of communication between me and H) as it turns out we’re going to Pembrey in South Wales this weekend as H is racing.

So I’m afraid (or maybe you’ve been putting to good use all this extra not-reading-about-my-life-in-minute-detail time to good use? – Recycling? Saving the planet? Shopping? Talking? Sleeping?) my blogs will continue to be few and far between for the next few days.

Anyway, I’m been spending lots of time with babies and little uns over the past few days and on the whole it’s made me realise that I’m soooooooooo not ready to be a mother.

Worryingly, when I was going through an extended ‘I’m bored with my life phase’ late last year, I thought that a baby might cure the boredom. Probably not the best idea I’ve ever had.

So, here are the reasons why it’s so not a good idea:

1. I have enough trouble looking after myself.

2. I sleep for most of the morning and don’t take kindly to be woken up early by anything or anyone.

3. I am surrounded by medicine and have a large supply of pills with me at all times which toddlers always seem to find in my bag and try and eat.

4. I called my friends’ baby Beal (my cat’s name) the other day. Well they are similar. They both lie on beds, are very sweet, don’t say much AND you can stoke them.

5. Worse than calling the baby Beal, when I realised I was lying quite close to her face, I moved away worried that she was going to scratch me!

6. When I was at Noodle’s house a few weeks ago, Noodle’s mummy was worried because Noodle wasn’t eating and me, thinking that Noodle looked very depressed, urged her to phone the vet. Luckily the vet wasn’t there because the next minute Noodle was jumping around the house and eating carrots (her favourite.) Umm, slight over-reaction I think.

7. Apparently, if you have a baby then it has to become the centre of your universe and not you. I mean, what’s all that about? How could I not self-obsess about myself?