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…