I’m sitting here, after a sleepless night, a busy working day, a turbulent afternoon with a tired, ratty Tink (not helped by a tired, ratty Mommy!), trying to relax and watch some TV. But, out of the corner of my eye, on the sofa next to me, is ‘The File’. I bought a pretty folder* in which to keep all the bumf they gave us on D-day (or should that be renamed ‘A-day’?) so that on the outside, it doesn’t look so scary. However I am scared to open it up and start reading all the information that was dumped on us that might just begin to help us make some sense of Tink’s new world. I’m scared that I won’t understand it (and I probably won’t – at first), I’m scared it will tell me about things that hadn’t even crossed my mind (and it probably will, lots), and I’m scared that I’m going to need a much bigger file, (and I am certain I will, soon). So, for now, it’s just sitting there. And I’m watching TV… And not looking at it. Yet. *This folder is temporary. I couldn’t find one in Asda that I deemed pretty enough. I feel a trip to Paperchase coming on.