Sara Sizzle has already told the world on her blog, but... it's a girl! And here she is, enjoying the best days of her life. Quiche has been kicking a lot recently, mixing in the odd karate chop and headbutt. Ah, mummy's girl. I think you can tell from the scan that she's going to be a beauty, can't you? Look at that nose! Those lips!
In other news, I've put my old house on the market. Anyone wanna buy a 3 bedroom semi in the not-posh part of Tunbridge Wells? Yours for £205k. A snip. Buffy and I have decided we want to run away to Cornwall to live in a house by the sea. This might happen... in about 2012. In the meantime, we're stuck in the world's rudest city. I've become increasingly outraged by how f*cking foul people are in London, epsecially on public transport. I bet if you asked a poll of strangers if they would give up their train seat for a 6-months-pregnant woman with a very prominent bump, they'd all say, 'Of course.' But 99% of them would be lying. What actually happens is that after practically shoving Sara onto the tracks in the rush for a seat, the commuters on our line raise their newspapers and try desperately to appear as if they haven't noticed the pregnant belly in front of them. It's shocking. Women are the worst - they never ever offer their seat. Some men do, very occasionally, but usually only after having an internal wrestle with their conscience for five minutes.
It makes my blood boil. I'm going to bring up quiche to have consideration for others. And to kick people who bother her in the balls.
