There has been a lot of talk on Twitter about BritMums Live pre-conference nerves. The BritMum’s Butterflies idea is so lovely; I already feel more at ease knowing that there will be some people there to meet and greet delegates like me who will be attending solo, alone, with no one, did I mention, alone? And more importantly, THERE WILL BE STICKERS.

I don’t really have butterflies in my tummy about going. I’d love to have butterflies. No. Instead, I have a number of mischievous, flatulent monkeys gathering in my small intestines. They have been playing table tennis in my epigastric region, ping pong with my pancreas, skittles in my stomach, and it’s  resulting in the emancipation of some almighty, apprehensive parps.

As a writer, I mainly work from home, and I’m not accustomed to being anywhere for very long without being able to be, well, quite unfettered in the wind department shall we say. Most of my writing is done sitting in front of my computer with my jeans undone at the top for comfort, and I only put a bra on for the school run and work meetings. I associate BritMums Live with the scary fact that I am going to have to wear grown-up clothes and keep them done up for HOURS! It will be a bit like trying to contain a bunch of caffeine fuelled ferrets in a nappy sack; something uncontrollable is likely to escape at some point. How will I get through the whole conference without EXPLODING? I love the BritMums Butterflies social mentoring concept as the butterfly is such a potent symbol of transformation and rebirth.  Perhaps then, the twisty feelings in my belly are not butterflies or flatulent monkeys, but just the winds of change? Roll on Friday. *Parp*