The Pundits Say It's a Boy

Tamsin, my lovely sister-in-law, went into hospital this morning at 7.30 for her inducement. By the time you read this Vic and I may well have another nephew or niece.

Although we don't know for certain, we have read between the lines and reckon it's going to be a boy.

Either way, we wish Tam and Gav all the best for today. We understand that Tam was 6 cm dilated last night -- she's been suffering with pains and contractions since last weekend! -- but the hospital still plan to induce. And any lady who has been induced will tell you what a shit and painful experience it is...

Hopefully the new kid will arrive on the block today, as if he or she arrives tomorrow, they will forever clash with Vic's birthday.

Happy birthday Vic!

I Say, I Say, I Say

How do you manage to lock your car keys in a central-locking car?
Together with your mobile [cell] phone, house keys...
...and 18 month-old daughter?

How do you explain to your husband, who is a 30 minute drive away, that you've managed the above and could he go home immediately to pick up the spare car keys?

Answers on a postcard please to my wife.

Thankfully India slept through the whole event, and apart from one upset and panicky Vicster -- who also managed to phone the police (who couldn't help) -- and one annoyed Nobby, no harm was done.

I'm sure in a few years time, we'll all look back and laugh about it.


[As an aside, this wasn't my Ginger Woman-esque superhero moment]

Life Can Change in a Day

We moved. The packers were excellent and made it a pretty stress-free experience. I'll give you a virtual tour tomorrow. Think 1989 Travelodge meets the Circus of Death wallpaper -- in every room. We still have rooms full of boxes. India didn't freak out -- she postively loves the extra space in which she can race dolly's pushchair around / play football in.

I am back on the Sports and Social committee at work.

It is our 4th wedding anniversary today. Feels like yesterday we got married. I love my wife more and more everyday, blah, blah, blurg. Happy anniversary dear.

Rob's back from Chicago. Last week his Dad was admitted to hospital with blurred vision, dizzyness and slightly slurred speech. It wasn't alcohol. It's a brain tumour. The prognosis isn't good either. Rob was expecting the very worst news to be "your Dad only has 12 months", but having been through cancer with Gran last year, I suspected that it might be quicker than that. The doctors have predicted he only has months. Rob's Dad is going to have a course of radiotherapy and look at some other alternative therapy options, so there's still some hope, but that is one mighty big clock ticking. Rob is still in shock -- none of the family can quite believe it, as his Dad's symptoms have come out of the blue. It's so difficult to find the right words to comfort Rob -- it is impossible to put any positive spin on a desperate situation like this and there's nothing you can do to make things better.

I'm just so sorry for his Dad and the whole family.