Chronicles of a Trailing Spouse...

So it’s over.  Thank the imaginary gods above.  And yes, dear reader, as predicted, it was total and utter hell.   Clearly the female brain is hot-wired with denial when it comes to all things childbirth-related since it’s not until one reaches the second stage of labour that the slow recollection descends  ‘ ah yes, I remember this; I’m experiencing the equivalent of being sawn in half without the alleviating ability to pass-out half-way through ’ but of course by then it’s all too late. The hospital in question was faultless and consummately professional aside from the comedienne of a nurse who, two days post-partum, eyed my still-swollen stomach and commented ‘ tee hee are you sure you’re not still pregnant? ’ which frankly went down like a lead balloon as indeed, I still had all the appearance of a woman 5 months into her pregnancy (I’d like to say it was an isolated incident, but sadly more than one Filipina shop assistant has since made the same hilariou...

I've had bloggers block.  I think my brain atrophied and died slightly over the festive season from the massive consumption of alcoholic beverages I consumed.  It's not my fault; Ireland was so cold that anything more ambitious than sitting in front of the fire in a pub drinking hot whiskeys seemed sheer madness.  My brain was further destroyed by the return trip from hell which featured an ill-advised stopover in Istanbul, something which I quickly told myself would be an experience when I saw the cost of the flights (half that of a direct flight).  The reality was something similar to childbirth in terms of the cyclical agony as the children ran the wrong way down the travelator in the departure lounge, over and over and over... Predictably our plane was delayed,  and so as everyone gathered around the departures screen anxiously scanning it for updates, we started pushing our way to the priority boarding point to avail of our right to board first since we...