aubergine trousers & bursting point

I'm starting to feel physically uncomfortable
Is this normal for this stage in the race?

I'm just about halfway through my pregnancy. If they are prem, then I am more than halfway.

They are starting to sit or poke things like my [sensitive] colon, while indigestion and heartburn plague me after every meal.

I feel sort of like the 8:00am Clapham Common tube. Stuffed to the point of bursting, but just when I think there couldn't possibly be any more room for another person to wedge themselves on board, teetering between being flattened by a door or falling into the Gap, they manage to get on.

I am currently a full tube carriage. Knowing that at least another 10 people will need to be crammed on between here and Edgware.

And this is before I have eaten a meal. After eating a meal I just want to go and have a lie down. So that my sides don't burst open.

Frankly, where will these babies find the space? Something is going to have to give - or burst - surely - I'm certain it will.
 

Anyway, I bought myself some marginally decent maternity clothes. Maternity clothes are a sorry state of affairs (why, as a pregnant woman, would I suddenly want to wear brown and lilac? Why are so many clothes festooned in these ungodly colours?) - anyway, I found that Asos does an almost normal-looking maternity skinny jean.

And look, in a variety of Farrow & Ball hues. hip colours. Don't you love this strapping pair? I liked that they were aubergine. ("Pelt" in F&B language.) They also didn't cost the Earth. These bad boys are going to be worn long after I give birth, let it be known.

We went on a South African taster evening the other night with some Saffa friends. Everyone else did the wine pairing, while I just stuffed my face with mini boboties, ostrich steak and other ridiculously delicious home bites.

After 9 courses, none of us could physically move. We were so stuffed, we could hardly manage to leave the restaurant. I was so uncomfortable, I feared I'd give birth right on the pavement outside.

I am nesting. This can be the only explanation. I had a splendid time polishing our fragrance bottles in the bathroom last week. I literally had the best time ever.  Polishing them and making them all shiny.

Until we know about these renovations, I can't do anything housy-housy in most of our rooms. The bathroom is one place I can go and make everything just right. The other rooms are waiting to be half bashed down.
I am OCD about my house and the space that I inhabit. I just need my surroundings to be beautiful and most importantly, ORDERLY. My house is not my castle, it's my fucking universe. And if it doesn't look pretty, I just feel completely out of sorts.

It's worse than ever right now.

Bottles last weekend; this week I might soap down the attic hatch in the ceiling. Seriously. It looks a bit fingerprint-fiddled.


Lastly, like every year, the papers are threatening that Britain is going to experience the "worst winter in 60 years," with one report sayign we could have "100 straight days of snow."

They really go over the top and get their knickers in a knot around here about the weather.

They say something like this every year, and yes, while winter is seven shades of shit in it's bleakest moments here, it is always like that. So why should I believe that this year is gong to be any worse, or different?

The wind is icy and it's all wet outside, but there is something to be said for strolling through the common on a crisp autumn morning on the way to work.