Great Expectations
Tick tock, tick tock.
With one week to go until the forecasted arrival of the firstborn, time is moving slowly. As a distraction, we have been throwing ourselves into a frenzy of preparation, like the good little Boy Scouts that we are.
1. Cot assembled by the Man of the House: tick!
2. Suitable (and enormous) artwork affixed to nursery wall: tick!
3. Birth pool inflated, creating an ambiance that I like to think of as Californian Vacation. Mojitos in the hot tub all round: tick!
4. Hard core drugs stashed in fridge (and rapacious flatmate instructed on pain of death not to take them): tick!
5. Birthing equipment purchased and stashed next to pool: tick!
The latter including, of course, a couple of fetching black rubber sheets from an establishment in Old St, known as Expectations. On hearing that our midwife had suggested Ikea shower curtains as a preventive measure against leakages, the lovely Uncle Monty shuddered, then rallied to take matters into his own hands. A couple of days later a discreet brown paper package plopped onto the doorstep.
Apparently, if ‘You like it moist or really wet…. You can really get going with the Wetgames sex-sheets! Splash sex and massages with oils creams and all other liquids, e.g. champagne. With Wetgames you can live out your fantasies without any morries!’
When I called Monty to thank him, his attitude was, as ever, refreshingly practical.
‘My pleasure, dear Lady V. We couldn’t have you giving birth on a shower curtain. If those sheets can withstand people jizzing all over them, they can surely cope with a bit of amniotic fluid. And remember, they’re machine washable, so you can use them again.’
Er, quite, Monty, quite…
With one week to go until the forecasted arrival of the firstborn, time is moving slowly. As a distraction, we have been throwing ourselves into a frenzy of preparation, like the good little Boy Scouts that we are.
1. Cot assembled by the Man of the House: tick!
2. Suitable (and enormous) artwork affixed to nursery wall: tick!
3. Birth pool inflated, creating an ambiance that I like to think of as Californian Vacation. Mojitos in the hot tub all round: tick!
4. Hard core drugs stashed in fridge (and rapacious flatmate instructed on pain of death not to take them): tick!
5. Birthing equipment purchased and stashed next to pool: tick!
The latter including, of course, a couple of fetching black rubber sheets from an establishment in Old St, known as Expectations. On hearing that our midwife had suggested Ikea shower curtains as a preventive measure against leakages, the lovely Uncle Monty shuddered, then rallied to take matters into his own hands. A couple of days later a discreet brown paper package plopped onto the doorstep.
Apparently, if ‘You like it moist or really wet…. You can really get going with the Wetgames sex-sheets! Splash sex and massages with oils creams and all other liquids, e.g. champagne. With Wetgames you can live out your fantasies without any morries!’
When I called Monty to thank him, his attitude was, as ever, refreshingly practical.
‘My pleasure, dear Lady V. We couldn’t have you giving birth on a shower curtain. If those sheets can withstand people jizzing all over them, they can surely cope with a bit of amniotic fluid. And remember, they’re machine washable, so you can use them again.’
Er, quite, Monty, quite…
posted by Lady V at 7:27 pm
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