Dear Myself,
Something is very wrong with the baby, I don't want to stress Mum about it but my writing has ended up being sidetracked somewhat. The due date has passed, four days ago now that the baby was due to make an appearance but still nothing. The midwife did drive to the house but even she got confused and suggested that the date had been mixed up in the first place! Dad has managed to schedule some time off working for clients so he can be by Mum's side. Damien on the other hand has stayed well clear of the whole thing, always kicking a ball or jogging about around the fields. My bedroom door has remained propped open just in case we have to go hospital. A pile of notes are sitting on the side of the table, gathering dust because right now, I just want to work on my novel and not stress about exams. The sixth form do know that Mum's expecting but haven't really shown support about it towards me which I find a little hurtful considering I've been a student at that school for seven years now. I do feel currently bitter but that's to do with the extreme stress of everything currently happening.
The first thing I did before I started writing was trace my hand slowly across my arm and realised just how smooth the skin was. I do shave regularly because this one time, I noticed a cluster of spots starting to form and as it turned out, removing the hair made the spots vanish. Acne can be an utter bitch sometimes, because Mum has acne, I somehow ended up getting it too. I did fall into the trap of covering my face with so much foundation and other forms of make-up just to hide the real side of me away and even leaving it on as I slept which never did things any good. If the new baby is a girl, I'll definitely teach her how to put on just that little bit of make-up whenever she is going to a birthday party or a sleepover, something along those lines. For the clothes side of things, she could see Mum for that. If the baby is a boy, I guess I'll still have to lock away all of my beauty products so that they aren't used for trashing the house with!
Mum didn't have a baby shower like some of my friend's Mums did when they were expecting a baby. My family are a bit more...low-key when it comes to celebrating events like that. Since none of us know what sex the baby is, it would be embarrassing if someone was to show up with a cute t-shirt that read It's A Baby Boy and then the baby turned out to be a girl. Dad does drink the occasional alcoholic beverage but me and Mum stay well clear of the beer and the wine and the vodka, the list just goes on and on so Diary, I won't bore you anymore with that. But what's really bothering me is how I'm managing my time with things. They say that education comes first and forget about all of your hobbies but if I didn't read or write and spent 24/7 doing just work, that would be boring and lonely without the comfort of my characters to escape to.
In my novel, Haley and the girls have arrived in this popular seaside town which back in the Victorian era used to be a thriving place to be. Puppet shows, snack vans across the promenade and the famous changing booths which were towed out towards the crashing waves and you could climb in one to change into bathing suits and jump into the mainly cold waters below. My swimming is terrible for someone my age, does doggie paddle count as a suitable form of trying to navigate water? I didn't think so. But in this town, most of the old places are boarded up, instead of the warm sunshine the weather on the news promised, it is raining and a cute guy on a skateboard almost runs into them and he has one of those Cheshire Cat grins and in his rucksack pocket, a stash of lollipops which he raided from a local corner shop. If I was currently at the seaside writing this part of my novel, it would be so much easier being in the surroundings by the coast and incorporating more places into the scene but since the nearest beach is over an hour's drive away, I'm having to rely on images from the internet to help accomplish the task at hand.
As I write in you Diary, the letterbox has just crashed open with the day's mail and something sounded very lumpy. When I was younger, I used to sit on the bottom stair in the hallway and listen out for the footsteps that I knew very well belonged to the postman and see if there was any mail for me. Most of the time, not a sausage but on a few days, there was a little card in with some pocket money from my Gran that I used to buy either sweets or notebooks with. Leia's neighbour reviews beauty products for some big name companies so every morning, a massive package shows up with the latest bath bombs or mascaras. One person I know well in the social media scene is Zoe or Zoella as she is known as. Her beauty products look really lovely but sadly are not the cheapest to purchase. My only experience with a bath bomb was when I splattered it too hard into the running water and a deep dark blue stain formed on the tiles next to the shower. What a stupid thing of me to do but back then, dumping things into water was all new for me.
I think Dad is coming along the landing to see what mail it is and talk to me just to keep Mum's condition updated. She's snoring away but her sleeping must be a very uncomfortable experience for her. Let's hope the new baby arrives safe and sound very soon.
Yours,
Morwenna.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
