As I continue to work my way through the boxes left from my previous stay, I came across a box containing books that I somehow missed. I believe I can safely say that I am as mortified now as I was the last time at discovering the book from which I come. I did discover, despite being from a romance novel, that as a character I am well-loved by many. It's humbling. Also embarrassing. And very strange to have read about moments which clearly happened but of which I have absolutely no memory. I also found myself smiling, because while no one ever expected it -- least of all me -- I was the one to get the prince in the end. Well, he was my princeand didn't seem to be much of a prince when he was here, anyway.
I am put out with the Tesseract, though. When I left London, spring had only just begun and the days were only beginning to think of warming up. I arrive here just as summer ended -- I was cheated out of the warmer months.
One final observation: I received in the post today a card with a lovely note inside, along with a photograph of a sweet, smiling baby I helped to deliver. The mother mentioned a Clint Barton, who also helped to deliver this baby. As I have no memory of this, perhaps Mr. Barton would be the more appropriate recipient of this picture?