Okey. Hungry for content I dragged out the old leatherbound diary from over a decade ago and found a late night "post" where I'd been inspired by Tony Childs' version of a song. And the prospect of my offspring on the way:
Strangely enough, this is not histrionics on my part. It really is the very next post that came up as I was going through the book.
Preferred correction: On reflection I would have said the last sentence differently. How can I speak for "a parent"? Still if these are the worst cringes I have, fifteen years after I've written something then I can live with it.
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