Carrick Hill

Appointment for Knickers' twelve week scan this morning. I'd love to say it was a humbling and awe inspiring experience; the magic of evolution made visible by the wonder of technology - but it wasn't.

Knickers' overwhelming priority was the desire to pee, and I spent the duration running interference on The Noodle. He only paused to vomit on the clinic's entrance rug, right in front of the congregated staff and patients. Gather round people...behold!

Spine, limbs and brain seemed to be aligned for the wee unborn one (gut feeling today is: Girl)anyway, so far so good, stitch in time, etc...

Lunched at Carrick Hill after. I'd sworn off it after attempting to dine there three times prior, each time finding it closed to the public. Fourth time was a charm. Maybe Jesus could have given Peter one more tilt at it before the cock crowed.

Food was well priced if a little bland, but the kicker was dining with faux silver cutlery under an oak tree while The Noodle tottered about acres of rose garden. We chattered gaily about Campbell the dour old gardener and the scandal of Miss Temperance Newbody.