This, at least, is how I felt about five hours ago when my husband left for ‘hours’ to go to bloody football and leave me all alone, bored, at home, nothing to do. Sounds like I’m an invalid doesn’t it or perhaps a small child incapable of amusing myself and you’d be right if you were thinking the latter because I am almost as bad at entertaining myself as a small child is. Can’t be left alone. Get bored quickly. Not grown up enough to enjoy my own company or grown up enough to make the decision to go out and enjoy the company of others. No! I prefer to get annoyed, moan and shout;’you are always going to football and leaving me here on my own with nothing to do. I’m here all week doing nothing and now I’m stuck here again,’ is something along the lines of how it goes. I’m somewhat of an exaggerator too because my husband works from home so I’m rarely alone, it’s just that weekend days are times than I don’t feel guilty getting him to go out and do something other than work. Gone are the weekends where, hungover, I’d be happy, no grateful,  to lie in bed all day watching the latest HBO series on my laptop, episode after episode! Anyway, I bloody well dragged myself out to the place where every grown-up goes to pass the time; to Mummy’s! Along the way I even popped into see my Booba (grandma) to drop her in the leftovers of the plum tarte tatin whose pan had cruelly burnt my husband’s hand (believe me when he picked it up just after I’d brought it out of the oven I felt the pain too. It was horribly upsetting-3 hours in A & E, a superficial wound-dressing later and we were are all ok again). Continue Reading

Off back to the EGA Wing at UCLH to see the midwife . I’m doing the usual ‘ take the time on the tube to write my blog’ thing. Mr Pregnantcitygirl reading the Metro opposite me (a scintillating addition to the post, that!). I’m lucky to have him come with me, in fact, I’m so lucky as it would be impossible trying to keep him away. I’ve been thinking lately; I love him so much. I don’t know what I’d do without him. I don’t think we have your average marriage. I feel safe and protected with him. He’s always looking out for me, looking after me. I would never ever be worried that we might have an argument and he would think badly of me. I am probably too dependent. He was under the Aston the other day (nothing new there, he’s always taking things off, putting them on, draining break fluid, fixing the aircon- he’s brilliant like that luckily, as we certainly couldn’t afford to send it to the garage every weekend!) and the jack collapsed. I exaggerate once again because he wasn’t under it, (or is that just a plain old lie then?!) he had been under it. I came out to see the car with no wheels on perched precariously on our drive, resting on its chassis. He could easily have been crushed. Given that I’ve berm stung twice this summer by a wasp, my first time in 38 years of life, I am worried that my luck is running out or running low at the moment at least, so I really contemplated the tragic possibility of the worst at that moment and it’s not worth contemplating, if that the right way of putting it, so that it doesn’t sound like I might have been thinking that there was a positive side to it!
At the hospital now. Men are funny creatures. Start talking to complete strangers over football. I think football is for thugs but one thing I must say is that it seems unites people, when they’re on the same side that is. I think it’s a bit of an alien concept for women, forgive me all you football-loving geezer birds!! Continue Reading