Remember that feeling when you were just about to finish a wonderful book that you'd hoped would never end ? A sort of self-induced depression that rendered you helpless and as each page passed the inevitability of the end would finally engulf you and you'd be left mourning it's passing ?
Well I just had the same feeling , but following a 48 hour period of blissful scrapping at a retreat in a gloriously rural part of Hertfordshire. I just didn't want it to end. Friends , fun , a lot of laughs , a lot of chocolate and the best part ... all meals cooked for you and no kids. I never thought I'd hear myself say that .. the bit about no kids but who am I kidding ?
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