On beer festivals and housewarmings – As if flying a plane wasn’t enough, 13 of our nearest and dearest descended on our little house for the weekend from all over the country to attend Nottingham’s annal Robin Hood Beer Festival at Nottingham Castle. Beer festivals don’t sound much fun when you don’t get to sample the beer, but thankfully, the paella, hog roast and carrot cake made up for the lack of ale.
It was a bloody good job I’d got my nest on the week before, as every room in the house was filled with air mattresses and sleeping bags. Quite how we fit everyone in, I’m not sure. I was a bit worried about staying awake long enough to enjoy the evening, but it soon became apparent that sleep wasn’t really on the cards as:
- Our house is apparently not sound proof. At all.
- Piano playing at 3am is fun if you’re drunk, not so much if you’re sober
- Sod’s law dictates that after going to sleep at 3am, I will wake up bright as a button and starving hungry at 7am
After a few weeks averaging 10 hours sleep a night, four hours came as a bit of a shock to the system (I’ve had longer naps in the middle of the afternoon), but I was surprisingly alert for the rest of the day – maybe in preparation for getting no sleep once the baby is here?
This weekend was also the first time a lot of our friends had seen the new pad, and in customary fashion, we descended on Wollaton Park (aka Wayne Manor if you’re not from round these parts) to shake off the cobwebs and enjoy the sunshine.
On the joys of working full time – Usually, I work 3 days a week in one job, and 2 days a week from home at another. After a bit of a switch around, I’m now going to be working 5 days a week in one job, and lunchbreaks/evenings/weekends as needed on the other. Thankfully, my working from home boss is my husband, and my 5 day a week boss has been kind enough to let me work from home one day a week, which helps soften the blow a little. This week is my first week working 5 days, and so far, so good. I can see as I get fatter and closer to February, this might get a little more difficult, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
On flu jabs – I don’t generally like to think of myself as a squeamish person, but I don’t like needles. It’s not the needles themselves, more the sensation of the fluid going in or out of your arm that I take offence to. I’ve given blood once. I went with my husband. He was the one proudly squeezing his bag of blood, commenting on how cool it was. I was the one with tears running down my face and mindlessly shoving Penguin bars in to my mouth. Thanks to travelling to high risk Malaria areas, and the whole ‘being pregnant’ thing, I don’t have to go back in a while which is FINE WITH ME. Anyway, I digress. I had my flu jab this week. As the ‘sticking needles in your arm’ thing goes, it was generally quite acceptable. HOWEVER, I was not a fan of the bruise it left me with, for such a diddly needle. Not only can I now not sleep on my back, or my belly, for the last few days, I’ve been relegated to sleeping on my right side only, which my hips DO NOT LIKE. Grumble grumble grumble (better than getting flu though).
Pre natal yoga – I actually got my (increasingly wobbly) arse in to gear and went to my first pre natal yoga session. It was BLOODY LOVELY. I felt like someone took me apart and put me back together the way I was meant to be.