– 7:42 pm

I could hear your mother coming down the stairs and had to open another tab (to conceal this one). This site and entries are still very much a secret you see. And I plan on keeping it that way for as long as possible.

She looks like she’s been sleeping for a couple of hours, and she has. For no explicable reason, we got up really early today, around 5 am. And when I’m up, I’m up, only night will take me down. We’ve since walked to Kingston and back with some fresh bread (from Olivier), a new perfume for her and some cheese from the Surbiton Farmer’s Market. There were two pitstops, the first at Ginger Bees Café for her (vegan salted caramel) ice cream and oat milk cappuccino, and at Local Hero where we normally brunch but only used the bathrooms this time. It was a great day to catch sunrays on a bench.

I got into the car after the Man City (2), Liverpool game (3) game. O’Yes, we bought a new car. Unlike my BMW M Sport which I now have to sell, it’s one with four doors and enough room to ram half your shit in. We picked up the Ioniq 5 on Thursday. So I spent (way too much) time in it trying to figure out what all these damned buttons and settings are for.

Liza’s bloodwork came back with worryingly low haemoglobin levels, which explained the constant fatigue and tiredness. So her doctor recommended an Iron Infusion. When she told her old previous boss Stuart about it, he made the “magnet joke”.

Your mother just interrupted – again, had to hide my work – to suggest we do a court marriage before you’re born… Let’s ice that for now.

Yesterday, we left the house at 9:30 am for Portland Hospital. There was no fuss about our slightly late arrival. The nurse was ultra nice and got us comfortable in a room.

A doctor came in, walking somewhat hastily. I couldn’t be certain through her face mask but she didn’t appear as jittery and overworked as I’d imagined or anticipated. The impact of the pandemic on healthcare professionals has been clear for all to see. But she seemed awake and capable, which was a relief. It sounds ridiculous I know. She rustled through some packaging and got an IV ready, complaining about the amount of waste as she ripped through plastic after plastic. I asked what was stopping her from solving this problem through a business. “Nothing”, she said. I emailed the address she gave me so let’s see if she replies. In hindsight, I doubt she has the time or the headspace.

Your mother squirmed and looked away the entire needle process, as expected.

Drip, drip, drip, the soy sauce went into her veins. Lizzie, the nurse, stayed for what became a free-flowing and extremely enlightening conversation. In between her forms, we spoke about topics I condensed into “the life and work of a creative”. Most importantly though, she used to work for the NHS and helped set us straight on some medical decisions your mother and I had been on the fence about regarding your birth. We now know what we need to do. It’s going to break the bank but it’s a long-term investment in yours and our futures.

It wasn’t immediately apparent but by sundown, she looked ready for a triathlon, buzzing with energy. I wonder if you felt any of it. You must have. She had Sauti Sol coming through the speakers, bouncing away. I wish I had a video. But it was great to see.

Time flies by when you’re laughing. And in no time at all, the hanging bag was empty. Within a few bright smiles and goodbyes, we were out on the street. We sauntered around the city, opting for the quieter Marylebone. She had lunch at 31 Below, where I had an iced Americano.