I suppose the time to stop writing this blog is nigh. It will soon be a year since my diagnosis and my life is not interesting enough to fill any more reams of internet space. Tomorrow Francois and I are finally off on a spa holiday - so those months of trawling the internet were not wasted. Mum is coming to look after the kids and I have bought two giant bikinis. Benedicte will be leaving us in a week and so far the search for a new au pair has not been an overwhelming success as we were rejected by the first two proposed by the agent - the second after I interviewed her for half an hour on the phone. My managerial skills do not improve with age.
As I lay in bed last night I thought about everything that's happened over this last year and made a decision to consider myself cured. I know that I may not be, but if I'm tempting fate then bring it on. As of today, the past is history...and the future has yet to happen.
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