Dear Kitty,
               Isn't it strange to think that I've been writing for two years now? A lot seems to have happened.
               I'm not miserable (for once) - just pensive. I'm thinking a lot at the moment anyway - no idea why, but it's not helping me sleep. Actually, last night's fire alarms didn't help either, but it's ok - made getting up for swimming this morning quite hard, though. Still, I plan to have herbal tea and an early night tonight, so I can get up and go skating tomorrow.
               Hector checked my arms today. This has never happened with anyone before. Not that I would have let it happen with anyone else, I think. I want to do it again, but I thought I was past this - and I'm going to be.
               Aside from that, nothing much is happening. Christopher is learning how to cook because I keep teasing him - and it's quite sweet, really. I'm on a diet, and I don't think it's working, especially as I just broke it. Otherwise, I have some cadences to learn and French to do. I'd best be off.
Yours,
          Chessie