on ten­ter­hooks

This is not, by the way, a ten­ter­hook. It appears that in the entire pan­theon of images in Google, there is not a ten­ter­hook. There is only the expres­sion, “on ten­ter­hooks.” Well, fish hook or no, this image will have to suf­fice. Ten­ter­hooks we are on and there shall we stay until the deliv­ery of the post in the late morn­ing tomor­row. Then, all six school let­ters shall arrive begin­ning either with, “We are thrilled to…” or “We regret to say…”

I must say that John’s mom’s pres­ence has great­ly enhanced our sur­vival of the last week’s ordeal. Her ener­gy! We have been to the Tate Mod­ern, we have been to the Nation­al Por­trait Gallery, we have been real estate shop­ping, we have been food shop­ping! She is inde­fati­ga­ble. And the best com­pa­ny in the world. We have eat­en at home (the best chick­en sal­ad I think I’ve ever made), we’ve eat­en out (the best Indi­an in Lon­don I’m convinced).

But I have no time to tell you about these things! Nor about my near-genius pre­sen­ta­tion (I speak entire­ly objec­tive­ly) at the King’s Col­lege Par­ents’ Edu­ca­tion night this evening, on “From Pro­fi­cien­cy to Pas­sion: The Joy of Read­ing Aloud to Your Child.” No! I have no time to dis­cuss these fas­ci­nat­ing sub­jects because I must go to sleep and get rest­ed for… school noti­fi­ca­tion. You’ll be the first to know. And then it’s full steam ahead, blog-wise, on our Wales trip and our fran­tic week of mak­ing Lon­don so appeal­ing that we can con­vince my mum-in-law to move here… But more on all that lat­er. To tomor­row’s POST!