Calendar tomorrow: Coffee morning for Bliss, the premature baby charity.

State of mind: numb with tiredness.

State of back: screaming in pain. 

State of house: still a pit, albeit with clean carpets. I heart the Rug Doctor.

Portions of cake I have made: about 150. More if I’m stingy with the cutting.

Number of attendees expected tomorrow: anything between 15 and, umm, hundreds. Well, maybe not hundreds. I have put posters up in the two neighbouring villages, and who knows what this will crop. Probably 2 ancient biddies who have only come to steal the silverware and size up the Renoir.*

Amount of work John has done to help me with this: very little.

People I am doing this for: the baby in the neonatal intensive care cot next to Harry whom I watched being unplugged from the ventilator, before being wheeled away to the family room to die. The baby’s parents, who followed the cot out of the ward, holding hands.

Hoping to achieve: A decent donation to Bliss. Amelioration of guilt. Expiation of sins. Exorcism of demons. Etc. 

& apologies to L’eggs’s Tricky for stealing his nickname.

*I don’t have a Renoir.


15 Responses

  1. Hot tip for coffee mornings: don’t price the cakes and drinks. Let people help themselves and have a donations basket. Most people are more generous than you think your cakes are worth.

  2. What Iota said.

    And, ahhh, so that’s were you’ve been. Doing something amazing and worthwhile, bless you, you amazing woman.

  3. Have no doubt at all that I will one day be knocking at your day and asking, no demanding, to know where my cake is! In the meantime, have an utterly successful day and keep an eye on the silverware.

    XX R

  4. That was meant to be “knocking at your door”. Got distracted by the fireworks from a local festival. Typical…only very few things can distract me from cake.

  5. Oh, on so many levels you are a heck of a lady, you know…



  6. You don’t need to atone for anything. Quite the contrary. Also, this is a lovely wonderful thing you’re doing.

  7. Ooh, but my family have a Millais (the posh gits).

  8. Oh, the link is experiencing a temporary problem!!! I will be back, have no fear. And I will want cake.

    And I wish you a gentle rest and lasting peace. May your demons be gone and my your soul rest easy. You are a wonderful mother, wife, person, and friend.


  9. I was directed here from Katyboo’s site, and see you read some of the same folks I do. If I didn’t live in the US I would come buy your cakes! You’ve inspired me to try some new tactics for the March of Dimes here. My first baby was older than your Harry, but just 3 pounds and 2 ounces, and until I had my next child with greater issues, I thought it was the worst time in my life, but strangely, my former preemie now is my robust and healthy child, if a trifle wee yet. Horrible stuff to deal with and worthy of all your efforts to try to help othes. Well done, you!

  10. I would like to thank you on behalf of all the families that have had to follow a cot to ‘THAT ROOM’.
    We are one of those families and i love that you care.

    Huge hugs

  11. I just got a chance to read your site today and I read that about the cot next to Harry’s and FUCK you have me in tears now.

  12. […] I am mildly insane, I am also holding my annual coffee & cake morning for Bliss, the Premature Baby Charity on Saturday week, which sounds awful close now I come […]

  13. […] Premature Baby Charity. I wrote, last year, in a reasonable bitterness of spirit, a little about why I do this. Several people have asked me: why not just write a cheque? I could do that, I suppose, because […]

  14. […] primary reason for so doing, is, as I have written before, an expiation of what I obscurely feel to be my indebtedness. Payment for that very small […]

  15. […] to see a time in which all babies will be born healthy, and no parent has to watch their child die. It probably won’t come in my time, or in Harry’s, but it won’t come at all […]

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