All I can say after this long break from the start of the blog is that I love this motherhood lark. Baby S was a bit poorly when he arrived, so we were initiated into the world of parental worry via the neo-natal unit. But all is well, he's 2 months old and a strange & strong little feeding machine – our very own milk vampire – who as I type is kicking the computer. I think he thinks it's mummy's other baby.
So the take-off was a bit bumpy just as the flight continues to go through air-pockets where I feel like the bottom's dropped out of my stomach (like first smiles), but it's revolutionised, re-politicised, and diversified my life completely. So rather than just write about me and the lad, I've decided to get out of the house with my stills camera, my video camera, my notebook and a sound recorder and go for an explore of Ribbleton Lane in all its diverse glory. Oh yes and the boy. If nothing else, it'll keep us out of mischief. Or possibly get us into some, but can that be a bad thing?
As for the Mancunian past life, other people blog about that – and you can meet two of them here at travels with my baby – not that I am in any way jealous. Honest. I have a bar just up the road too, it just happens to be where the pigeon fanciers meet every week. Have you been to shoreditch / the northern quarter recently? Well this is where the flat cap trend stems from. Fact.
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Don't be jealous: when Little M and I go on our travels to the Northern Quarter's hip hang-outs, we have to endure the 'oh my god, is that a BABY? That's, like, so weird...' stares from all those kids with asymmetric haircuts and day-glo leg-warmers. Ho hum.
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