Water Babies

Well P’s bump continues to expand at a fair rate of knots – although the consultant has told her that the baby isn’t going to a big one. We were a little scared at first as they wanted P to have a third scan (which was fine) and then have another one in a few weeks time just to make sure.

However, with all the measurements they can take from the scans and then plot them against a chart, it’s obvious to see from the results that the bump is cooking nicely. If anything, after our first antenatal class, P was relived that the baby wasn’t going to be a bumper one as, judging by some of tummies of the other mums to be, they’re going to smarting somewhat afterwards.

We’ve also talked about the birth (it’s getting spookily close now – we’re even starting to kit out the spare room ready for the arrival) and, after being put off by the thought of it, P has come around to the idea of a water birth.

Our hospital does them and, if P can wear a baggy t-shirt to cover all the necessary bits, it’s probably going to be the method of choice. To be honest, if there’s anything that’ll help her stay relaxed and in the optimum position for delivery, a water birth seems like the best way to go. I can even be useful too – I can hold the scoop for fishing out anything that shouldn’t be in the water (assuming I’ve not fainted in the process!)

Chocolate Horror

So, it finally looks like I’ve got a good excuse to give up my favourite tipple of Creme Eggs and Fruit and Nut. With, no thanks to the government owned British banks providing the massive amount of debt, the demise of the British Cadburys into Kraft’s grubby cheese flavoured hands leaves me numb and tasteless.

Let’s face the facts, with all that debt piled into the company there will be cuts – and it’s sure not to be at the American side of the business. What puzzles me is, with no cash up front, why can’t I walk into my local Barclays bank and borrow £10 billion pounds and buy, say, BMW. It’s essentially all that Kraft has done – and the British tax payer has paid for it too!

So, be prepared for smaller bars of chocolate, higher prices, lower quality chocolate and factories moved to Eastern Europe. No matter what the bosses of the company say, believe me, it will happen. Perhaps not today, but in 12 months time.

It now looks like I’ll be searching for a new brand of chocolate to enjoy instead. It’s a shame really, because it’s most likely to be Lindt – and they’re not British either!

Christmas Comes But Once a Year

The above might just be true, but in my life there's always something else that crops up at Christmas time too. Yup, with “P” twenty-eight weeks pregnant and everything cooking nicely, I (and along with other work colleagues) got another letter informing us that due to the state of the current economic climate, we were up for redundancy. Again.

Readers of this blog (assuming that there still are some!) may have noticed that this also happened to me last year around this time too. Now, I'm not sure whether this was a deliberate ploy by the management to crap on us from a great height as we prepared for Christmas, but I find it extremely odd that the letter should appear a mere two weeks from Christmas. It's almost as if they're trying to grind the workers down. I just hope the CEO took his children to see the latest Christmas Carol film.

Fortunately, I didn't get the chop, but other friends and colleagues did. But with the boss happily wielding the axe at every opportunity, who says it won't be happening again soon? Whilst there was a certain amount of “clearing the dead wood” going on, the company are now pretty much hacking at the bone.

Naturally, trying to be all legal and above board with the redundancy proceedings, there was a drawn out two week period where we had consultations and points given to us (without being told whether others on the “hit list” had higher or lower points than yourself). I guess the bosses really enjoy this process as it was an extremely stressful time for all and office moral, which was still suffering from last years redundancies, no pay raise or office Christmas party, ensured that the office environment was like a morgue.

However, there is a positive outcome to all of this – but not in the manner the management will probably like. Those people who left had a certain “couldn't care any more” attitude to the proceedings and those who remained, myself included, felt exactly the same. I thought it was just me, but after speaking to other people in the office it became clear that the management have shot themselves in the foot.

You see, hard times or not, 2010 will see an awful lot of my colleagues search for new jobs and start afresh. I can't take much more of the stress myself (it's why I left my previous job in the first place) and over Christmas I'll be dusting down my CV and ensuring my skills are refreshed. You can either be gloomy about such things or treat it as a wake up call and a hint to try things new. After all, I try to take my life on a "glass half full" basis.

So, like the Christmas number one single, 2010 will see myself any my esteemed colleagues Raging Against the Machine. Merry Christmas!!

Trash TV

Oh dear. With the demise of Big Brother next year what is the British public going to do in their search of misfits, weirdoes and Z-list “celebrities” who’d turn up for the opening of an envelope, get drunk and then have the cheek to charge you £200? I’m sure even Hello magazine is panicking over the forthcoming lack of material. Still, I guess Katie Price will keep them in pictures in stories for the next millennium. Worst of all, Channel Four are now going to have to fill their airwaves with “new” programming – so stand by for repeats of Friends and Fraiser.

I could never understand the fuss behind the series and even less so one of my friends. During the first series he actually sat up most of the night watching the extended coverage of the “housemates” sleeping. Obviously watching people snore and break wind is more interesting than getting some sleep of your own. Bonkers.

And let’s not forgot those “famous” housemates. You know, over the past ten years there has been umm, and err, and you know, the one with the thingy. Yea, those Z-list “celebrities” are just that – instantly forgettable and thoroughly encouraged by our dour red top newspapers. But, if you asked any one person to name somebody off Big Brother then I’d guarantee you that they’d all name one person – Jade Goody.

I guess you should never speak ill of the dead, but just what the heck was Jade Goody famous for, apart from being labelled a racist? It’s not as if she was a mathematician (far from it) or the most photogenic of people, but she ended up making exercising videos, having her own perfume, presenting television shows and even writing a book. At one point she was even ranked as the 25th most influential person in the world!! Truly the world has gone mad – even more so when you consider that her lifetime earnings were suggested to be over £2 million pounds.

So rant over, you’ll forgive me if I don’t shed a tear over the cancellation of Big Brother.

The Missing Five Months – Part II

Earlier in the year we all headed across the water to the emerald isle for a wedding. One of P’s friends was, unsurprisingly, getting married and P was the matron of honour. It was quite funny really as I kept on asking her whether she’d written a speech and if she’d be ready to stand up in front of everyone at the reception and thank everyone for coming. P did get a little hot under the collar for a while, but her friend soon assured her that none of that was necessary and all she had to do was witness the signature.

All of P’s other university friends were there too so it was nice seeing her catch up with old friends and being introduced to them – especially as I’d only ever seen them on pictures and heard about exploits that would make the most outgoing of people blush. It was also nice to hear from them that they’d “heard so much about you” – although I’m not really sure whether this is a good or bad thing!

I do like Southern Ireland and find everyone so friendly. Unlike the UK, where every village use to have a Police Station, Post Office, Village Shop and Pub, the villages in Ireland still have them with supermarkets reserved for the larger towns. Every body knows every body else and, even if you’re a stranger, they all seem to know who you’re visiting and where you’re from. Needless to say, if you’ve a secret, it won’t be a secret for too long!

The country side is wonderful too, and once we’d driven into Southern Ireland away from the grotty cities and depressingly run down towns on both sides of the border, the pace of the cities gave way to enchanting landscapes. Where we were staying was a short drive from a deserted beach that could have been lifted from a postcard. Given that we’ve not exactly had the best weather this year, the weather for our trip was perfect and strolling down a sandy beach with only the sound of the waves gently rolling in was bliss.

I’d really like to retire there (assuming there’s anything left in my pension pot that hasn’t either been lost by some reckless banker or stolen by Gordon Brown) but P said she wouldn’t like the isolation and the lack shops. So, although she hates shopping, I think P secretly loves the Trafford Centre and her local Tesco Superstore too much.

The Missing Five Months - Part I

Apologies, apologies and even more apologies.

Gosh is it really five months since I last updated my blog? Blimey, you won’t believe how much has changed in that apparently short period of time – and it’s still all good news without any doom or despondency about my previous lack of love life.

Rounding things up in a nice and short way, P and I are still together and we’re still happily loved up. The biggest, no the hugest, news ever to have to have occurred in my life is that P is currently seven weeks pregnant!

We weren’t really expecting things to happen so soon, especially given that we’re both approaching 40, and we thought we’d be “practicing” for a few more months yet. But when P’s period didn’t materialise on our holiday, I began to suspect that a bun might well be in the oven! As soon as we got back home from holiday P duly performed the embarrassing task of peeing on a stick – twice. And, low and behold, both came out positive.

So, there you have it, I’m to become a Dad. So far, I think I’ve been very calm about things – especially since P is still not showing any symptoms or is there a bump to look at (and rub!). But today P came back from the doctors with a book all about pregnancy and, as I flipped through the pages, it sort of started to hit home of what is ahead. After all, it’s not as if you can hand over a screaming little imp and clear off back home – this little bundle of joy is for keeps!

But, given our relative ages, P and I are naturally concerned about abnormalities such as Downs Syndrome so we’re going to pay for a special scan. Also, given that P suffered from pre-eclampsia in her last pregnancy I made the mistake looking it up on the Internet and terrifying my self in the process. Still, the midwife said they’d be keeping a closer eye on her – and they’re not the only ones!

So, there you have it, you even have an exclusive as not even our respective parents or friends know about the (very small) bump yet and we’re waiting a few more weeks to make sure things are OK before announcing it to the world.

Given my lack of time these days (doing heaven knows what!) I’m going to try and do a bit more blogging over the next few months – after all, I’m going to have a lot to blog about!!

Memories

P is having a bit of a get together this weekend with some of her old girlfriends so I’m surplus to requirements and spending a bit of time by myself. I’m not complaining, I’ve watched plenty of DVDs I’ve had sat around for months and, even though we’re together, we still manage to do our own things every now and again.

However, being alone has reminded me of the events around this time last year with my little furry friend and her eventual passing.

Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be alone – I’d have the company of my cat who’d always want to be in whatever I was doing, constantly purring and then meowing for attention if I then dared to leave the room.

But this year, I really am by myself and it’s been hard not thinking about her (although why should it not be hard, I never want to stop thinking about her – after all I spent the best part of 50% of my life with her around). It’s just the house feels so empty and, even now, I still find myself turning around to see if she’s sat behind me waiting for a fuss. Although it’s probably all in my mind, I’m sure I can still hear her purring or snoring.

Needless to say, I think it’s probably not a good idea to go and see Marley and Me otherwise I’d be blubbing by the end of the film (not the best image for a bloke).