This
time next week, we’ll be in November. Jesus, this year has flown by like a lost
Red Arrow flying by a lighthouse. I guess it’s because I’ve had so much going
on, and so much to think about. I’ve been so concentrative on what’s happening
right in front of me that I’ve been blissfully unaware of time passing. Maybe
that’s a lesson you can learn from me – if you find your life dragging on, just
get someone pregnant and then change jobs. Next thing you know it’ll be six
months later and you’ll be wondering what happened to Summer.
With
less than two months until parenthood (excuse me a moment while I try to stop
my hands shaking from the panic and adrenalin…….) I’m thinking of stopping
drinking. Philippa has been off alcohol since well before a missed period, and
it’s not as much fun downing a bottle of wine alone. I want to start my career
as a father as I mean to go on – by being there and being supportive, and by
setting a good example – so being teetotal when little Sproglette appears feels
like the right thing to do. Plus – let’s be honest here – there’s a little
tradition called ‘wetting the baby’s head’ and I figure that if I haven’t had a
drink for eight weeks or so, when I go out to celebrate the birth of Junior
I’ll get pissed on less than a fiver.
RC 25-10-18
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