With
all the distraction of Hallowe’en, I’d completely forgotten that Bonfire Night
is just around the corner! If you’ve been reading this blogsphere shitfest of
mine for a while, you’ll probably know that I LOVE the first weekend of
November, when we get to wander about in the darkness drinking soup from
Styrofoam cups and watching fireworks annihilate the night sky.
Part
of me is worried that taking a very-pregnant woman out into a muddy field and
subjecting our unborn child to loud explosions might be a bad idea, but I’ve
also read that as babies can ‘hear’ things from the outside world long before
they leave the womb, it’s possible to get them used to certain kinds of music
before you even meet them. So why not get little Philippa Jr, (or Rory Barack
if it’s a boy) used to the delights of fireworks while he’s still coagulating
into a human? It’s not as if I’ll be keeping him away from them once he’s with
us – I’ll be dragging him to every bloody Bonfire party I can find online and
using him as an excuse to be a child again!
RC 19-10-18
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