The sunday lunch strategy didn't work. We reckon the baby overheard us discussing it and, as s/he gets all Herself's meals only half an hour after her, kind of, decided to hang on for it. I can't blame the wee blighter, mind. Just about everything but the beef and the Oxo cube came from allotment. There was Yorkshire Pudding with fresh thyme through it; mashed potatoes boiled with chopped sage; roast parsnips, golden ball turnip, carrots and a lovely piece of sirloin. The key element in a sunday dinner is the gravy, and this was a wonderful creation with onion, rosemary and garlic.
Suggestions for bringing on the birth include gin, curry, castor oil, sage, lemon tea and rhubarb crumble. Sex features heavily in advice from all kinds of people (including Mafleen, who's a midwife and likely to know about this process), with both parties reaching a simultaneous climax recommended. Look, I blog a lot of stuff but I draw the line at telling the world about everything we do. Let me just say, as a politician might, that we've tried a range of measures.
Meanwhile, life goes on. The See the Sky thingubby on flickr was fun. So much so that there's another event scheduled for Christmas Eve. It showed that there are some dummies on flickr, unable to read, or anyway to understand, a group's description.
Such dummies, I know, exasperate my pal Brendadada, especially as administrator of ETH. And she rightly drew attention to the fact that I'd taken Dawdon off the blogroll; you can get to it from Spliced Differential, but fair enough, it's back where it belongs on the 12 Merry Blogs bit of the blogroll. Sorry, Brend'.
Indeed. Another part of today, aside from forever asking Herself if she was having contractions yet, and cooking that dinner, and some other shenanigans, was checking out Little Hits. A wee bit disappointing. Excellent stuff, in many ways, but mostly four and five piece male bands doing ballads: nothing really original, of the dozen or so I downloaded, anyhow. I like the off the wall stuff I can usually find at Bonfire Radio, especially from the lad 'imself, Pete Ashton.
Oh yes; baby names. How about 'Godot'? I did provide my partner with carrot and turnip whilst we've been waiting...