It seems hard to believe that I am this pregnant. There is still a bit of me that can’t get over the belief that I never would have a child ( due to lack of opportunity) so this does feel rather freaky still.
I am going to Bristol tomorrow it will be my last away trip with work ever as I leave the civil service at the end of the month on ERS. I will be doing the driving which will be fun for a given value of fun but a better option than getting across London with bags, a back that doesn’t like me standing and a rapidly expanding tummy.
The pregnancy books all recommend staying away from spicy food, pop, chocolate, coffee and alcohol if you are suffering from heartburn. Which would basically mean living on a diet that would make the remaining 11 weeks seem like 11 years so bollocks to that frankly. I love spicy food and millions of pregnant women over the world eat it on a daily basis so why shouldn’t I? also I seem to get heartburn no matter what I eat so finding a decent remedy has been more important. Gaviscon and milk seem to work the best and the milk has the added advantage of strengthening my bones and teeth against the calcium theft that Jr is indulging in at the moment. The milk also makes the little one kick about so I think he approves.
I have been reading some of the on line guides for fathers to be. They all seem to assume that the men reading them are beer swilling, football obsessed, curry monsters who want their sons to be into sport and expect their daughters to be into dollies and shopping. Most depressing and probably more than a little off putting for the men reading them, if they are like most of the chaps I know, a little bit more rounded than the stereotype even if they do like rugby and curry and beer. For the record I’ve been to more rugby matches than Simon (between one and none) including one at Twickerham.