I left my job today; there's now no going back. This afternoon I found myself sitting in a well-known Mayfair restaurant enjoying a farewell lunch with the founding partners of my firm and seriously began to question my sanity. I'm voluntarily walking away from all this. Hmmm... I turned the lights off in my office this evening, bid everyone a rather phoney, cheery farewell and stepped out into the snow. The waiting taxi whizzed me through the West End, over Chelsea Bridge and before I knew it I was home. For good.


In theory we move house next Friday. I'm somewhat baffled by the fact that after two months of conveyancing we are still waiting to exchange on either property. I have no idea how we are going to pull everything together in the next seven days, but I remain firmly optimistic. I refuse to be defeated by a chain of buyers and sellers, each with their own agenda. Until now I always found it rather melodramatic when people told me that moving house was one of the most stressful events in your life, on a par with death and divorce. I'm slightly dismayed to find that I'm starting to understand why. 


So there we are, tomorrow is the first day of my new life, that of a full-time mummy. And do you know what? I can't wait.