Right, somebody, somewhere is having a giraffe

(And it's not me).
Anyway, 12 weeks and 3 days pregnant - how did I spend it?
Puking! Puking as if there was nothing else in the world to do but puke. Puking as if puke were my middle name.
Now I've gagged and retched and vomit-burped my way through this pregnancy so far but until yesterday I had not actually vomitted.
Until yesterday.
And then I puked ... a lot (I realise you may have already realised that) - but honestly I thought I might die. I felt wretched the entire whole day while my brain kept saying "But, but, but I'm 12 weeks. This is supposed to stop, Not get worse!".

I have decided that I am absopletely never having any more children. I might adopt, ala Brad and Angelina.

In secondary news, I was invited to a booklaunch by a vay famous author with canapes and cocktails and the works... Cocktails... hmmmmm! Well, only 6 (7) more months til I can enjoy one.