It was late Saturday night as Sir Robert Hatfield finally crawled into his bed. It had been a long day, complicated by the fact that his first grandchild had obviously inherited it's grandmother's most annoying habit and decided that it was going to arrive when it was good and bloody well ready. Which meant that …
What I had with John was a thunderstorm. It was full of lightening and wind and drama and passion.
The Jarlena Journal 