Well, hello my long-neglected blog. Perhaps it’s time we got reacquainted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Tomorrow marks two weeks since my quiet little world went a bit bonkers. Two weeks ago tomorrow, I woke up to my phone blowing up, to hundreds of new Instagram followers appearing by the minute, out of the blue. Through my 6am -bleary eyes, it was baffling. And the timing was just impossible. Knee-deep in half-packed boxes, as I prepared to move with my husband and five sons 300 miles south to Lowestoft, from the sleepy ex-mining village that had been my home for 9 years, I fielded a call from a gentleman reporter at The Times. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Tom” I nearly said, “stop doing a silly voice,” so convinced was I that it must be my brother winding me up. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Did you know?” Mr Malvern asked me. “How has it affected you?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Erm, I’ve had moments to process this! Plus, not to put too fine a point on it, my head was a little thick with the late night last hurrah I had just spent with the ladies I call friends, before I was due to leave them all behind. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I had by this stage, of course, twigged though. That Tom Daley, that diving legend, had been photographed, a picture globally distributed the night before, knitting my pattern at the Olympics. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
And he had tagged me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The debate was hot: what was he knitting? Some confidently professed it a hat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n