Well,

Maybe you can guess what this is about

We're getting married. Jack proposed to me in bed, just before I headed off to the shop one morning. Imagine!

The photo is of the ring before it was re-sized, on the very morning it all happened - the blue stone matches my biro hand notes. Nice.

I couldn't tell anyone the day that it happened because I was on the verge of tears all day. And the next day i told lovely Spitalfields people: I'm glad I had them to practise on because it wasn't pretty. I'm a cryer at the best of times but the romance of it all turned me in to a damn mess.

I know I spend a lot of time on this blog gushing about how amazing, awesome, stunningly beautiful little pieces of toot are: well, let the presence of this post let you know that I do have some aspirations and even emotions above acquiring the perfect rug/chair/jug. But also that I'm not that great at talking about them. Please can imagine all the squishy bits in movies: all the lean back kisses, all the looking wistfully at sunsets, all the heartfelt declarations and mix them in with just a touch of petty jibing and belly button fluff and that is what our relationship looks like: all glorious but also comfortable and nicely dog-earred. I am so happy to have snagged myself such a winner, a true, stand-up gent who somehow manages to be endlessly kind. (and who has a really great arse). It's deeply satisfying to make it all official.

Also . . . let's get real.

I'm getting to that time in my life where I can't say 'guess what?' anymore because people just reply 'you're pregnant?!' and I feel like a right nob when I have to say 'no, I was just going to tell you that I ate a whole jar of pickled onions last night'. Well, we're officially on the conveyor belt now and I'm well up for it! We're going to do it all! Mortgages, babies, moving to the countryside, talking about sofas, maybe Jack will go bald then I'll do a menopause and we'll slide into old age. Yep. Real life, we're on our way.