Pregnant cousin comes to visit

"So," I hear you cry, "what the blazes did you get up to last weekend?"

Well, it was all rather exciting. My cousin, Jane (we've been close all our lives), suddenly announced that she was pregnant with her first baby and wanted to come and visit with her boyfriend Martin; probably to get top parenting tips from me. Yeh, yeh, I say that ironically. There are numerous past instances that will point to the fact that I am unequivocally not the most conventional (apparently that is the kind way of putting it) of mothers.

Like when the Health Visitor told me off for teaching Izzy to drive a Fork Lift Truck. She said it was 'inappropriate', but to this day, I still view it as an essential life skill.

Then there was the time Izzy when was first born and the Midwife visited to find out how I was getting on. I was desperately trying to impress her, and would have probably managed it if it wasn't for Naughty George. Firstly, as soon as the Midwife arrived, Izzy decided to fill her nappy with the brown stuff, so it looked like she had been sat in it for ages. DOH. I nipped out the room to get a new nappy, and when I got back, Naughty George was licking the baby's face. What a git.

At this point, I was getting increasingly nervous, but still managed a passable nappy change - a little skewiff, but it was still on. I lifted up Izzy to show the Midwife when all of a sudden, Naughty George created a commotion behind me. I turned to find him ragging Izzy's dirty nappy like it was a dead rat, showering the immediate vicinity with baby plop. That dog has got a lot to answer for.

Anyway, I digress. Jane and Martin arrived on Saturday afternoon, and we sat down for a cup of tea in the garden.

"Blimey", I said to Jane, "I can't believe you're up the duff."

"I know, it's freaky isn't it. Do you want to see a picture of my scan?" She replied, rummaging about in her handbag and producing a black and white grainy picture.

Pic.No.1. Jane's 7 week ultrasound scan

"Where's the baby?" I asked, studying it closely.

"There," Jane pointed at something in the black blob in the middle of the picture.

"Blimey, it looks like a pair of testicles," I replied.

"I know," she nodded.

"Cool," I said.

After our tea, we had decided to go into Oxford and have a wonder around the city.

"Before we set off, let me take some pictures of you guys in my garden," I said. First up was Martin.

 Pic.No.2. Martin posing in my garden

I took the picture and then turned to Jane, "blimey, is it me, or is he a right poser?"

"He's a right poser," confirmed Jane, adding "he has to look in a mirror at least 100 times a day."

"Wow, is that true?" I asked Martin.

"Yep," he nodded proudly.

"What do you do if there isn't a mirror available?" I asked out of curiosity.

"I always carry one with me, just in case," he said.

"Good thinking," I replied, impressed.

Pic.No.3 My cousin Jane and her chap, Martin

Once we arrived in Oxford, we decided to visit the oldest pub in the city which was tucked down a small alley off High Street. It was called The Bear and was built circa 1242 which is nearly 300 years before Shakespeare was born, and he is really old.

Pic.No.4. The Bear Inn. It's older than Joan Collins

The pub was divided into two tiny bar areas, both of which were full when we entered.

"Hey cous," I said to Jane, "can we play the pregnancy card in order to get some seats?"

"No," she said shaking her head.

"Why not? I thought it was one of the perks of the condition," I said.

"You're just bloody embarrassing," she replied, as I rued an opportunity missed.

After visiting The Bear Inn, we had 45 minutes to spare before going back to the Forest Hill to eat. So what better way to complete our cultural tour than a visit to another pub, called The White Horse Inn, this time situated in a building which dates back to Medieval times.

Pic.No.5. The White Horse in Broad Street, Oxford

So, even though we were in one of the world's most historical cities, we had only seen two pubs. That is a pretty poor effort even by my low standards. What's worse, was that we left Oxford in order to go and eat at yet another pub in the village where I live.

Rather confusingly, it also was called The White Horse Inn. Blimey, the day was turning out to be a dobbin-fest.

 Pic.No.3. My local village pub - The White Horse Inn

We had a large meal of Thai food, and then out came the camera again. At first things started out quite normally.........

Pic.No.4. Me in the White Horse Inn

Pic.No.5. Jane and Martin. Yes Martin is wearing shades inside...... at night-time

And then everything rapidly degenerated into a pose-fest, inspired by Martin 'I should've been a model, me'.........

Pic.No.6. Yo sister. You me homey? (you can see two bemused old ladies looking at us in the background)

Pic.No.7. To be honest, I am not exactly sure what Jane is doing here. I like it though

Pic.No.8. You no sister o' mine, not wiv dat yellow tee

After dinner, we headed back to my house, to be entertained by a Martin whose who weapon of choice was youtube. Yep, you read right; youtube.

"I am gonna play you some tunes," he announced. 

Jane turned to me and whispered in my ear, "you should never have let him on your computer," she said. 

"Why?" I whispered back. 

"Just wait," she hissed.

Pic.No.9. Jane on the sofa being entertained by DJ Youtube

Sure enough, after thirty minutes our ears were ringing after being bombarded with 1980's high octane dance music. Martin was jumping around the living room in appreciation of his choices.

"Blimey," I said to Jane, "is he always like that when you give him access to youtube?"

"Yep," she nodded despairingly, "and he can keep going for hours."

And so he did, and I can confirm that it was the very early hours when everyone eventually went to bed. Not bad stamina for a pregnant girl eh?