Right, that's it. I'm still here. I was skulking and hiding, but a couple of kind readers have prompted me out of lurking. It had gotten to the point that I wouldn't even click on my blog pages, so embarrassed was I, that they were no longer updated.
Everything is mostly the same, but in a good way. In a great way. I still savour my health like only the recovered can. The kids are growing up happy and well-cared for. Hugh is 3 and a half, Tess has just turned 2. Nice Man is still nice to me.
Part of my hiding is due to my ambivalence about the way the Internet can take over your life: hours of your time can fall down the hole that is, 'Just checking my email/facebook/twitter feed'.
Recently I was at a wedding where there was a designated twitter page and guests were tweeting from one side of the room to the next. Some people love that stuff. The bride and groom were happy cyber geeks. Fair do's, and 'them to their fancy and me to my nancy', but frankly, I'm happier in real time, rather than parallel web time.
That's also a vain way of saying that this ubiquitous web-stickiness drives me nuts. Sometimes I am tempted to poke Nice Man with a random gardening tool if he tweets when we're on one of our average family-fun days out: something like buying emulsion at B&Q or getting lost at motorway junctions. Here's a recent article by journo, Graham Spiers, saying how his wife gets grumpy when he gets carried away tweeting.
Well, what else have I got to say? So much that I don't know where to begin. If I can resist the coy urge to hide again, I will try and see what gives in future posts. One thing at a time.
Tomorrow night I'll head out to my new local bookgroup. We read Caitlin Moran's How to Be a Woman. I loved it much more than I thought I would. I was always a believer in equality - ie a feminist, but the book has opened my eyes to so many parts of life where we need to nuture that equality. When something breaks around the house, Tess will say, 'man fix it?' Yes, I say, or maybe a lady.