I am now 33 weeks. That is DD minus 7 weeks. 7 is not a very big number. I know this because when only 7 people are put on a rugby pitch there is an inordinate amount of space. I currently have a similar sense of fear as I would if asked to actually play 7’s. The thought is quite frankly ridiculous. We now have actual nappies in our house. Actual nappies. That one day will be used on an actual baby.

What does DD stand for I hear you ask? For those not up with pregnancy lingo it means Due Date. For me it means Doodle Day. Why Doodle? When you start drawing a doodle you don’t actually know what it is going to be. Much like Baby Bear – we don’t know if they will be a good sleeper or a bad sleeper, if they will cry lots or if they won’t, if they feed well or if they struggle. But as time passes, like a doodle starts to take shape and your impact as the artist grows stronger, so too does a little person emerge. They start to take shape, their personality develops and you as a parent, along with friends and other family can help to shape the future of this little person. A responsibility yes, but a good one, I think. I wonder what our little doodle will be like in a few months, years or decades time? One thing is for certain…they will be tearing their hair out because Brexit has still yet to be resolved and we, in Kent, are still having to drive up the M20 motorway limited to 50mph and wondering quite how the cars missed all of the signs and still managed to drive in the freight lane. They will learn when operation stack is fully implemented and they get stuck behind parked up lorries for hours! I am kind of hoping for No Deal now just so I can drive past feeling smug that I did manage to read the signs (that are very obvious by the way) and drive down the correct lane and get home in time to have a nice cup of tea and watch Neighbours.

Talking of neighbours there has been a bit of an actor exodus recently, I sobbed and sobbed watching the episode where Sonja quietly drifts away to permanent sleep in Toadies arms watching her family play on the beach. I would say the sobbing was due to pregnancy hormones but Neighbours has made me cry on more than one occasion over the years. Because the acting is so amazingly good, I feel like I am there, it is all so real. After the exodus there has been the return of Kyle Canning – who came back to witness, quite literally, his Dad proposing to his ex-girlfriend. The 2.4 family is so 90’s. And it is possible that the Andrea and Dee mystery may well be solved soon. Perhaps Dee did not die. Her body was never found and she will return in a remarkably similar story to the one involving Harold Bishop several years ago. It is all really very deep. At least Neighbours will not be affected by Unicorn Brexit. But the hope of an Eldorado return must surely now be dead and buried, unlike Harold or Dee.

Jeff the Fern I don’t think is growing. I thought he was but I was just convincing myself but that is fine. He is comfortable in his own skin, he does not feel pressured to change or be someone different. Perhaps we should all take note of this.

A bit of a life change for me this week in that I am stepping away from club rugby commitments for a while so next year will be the first season in near on 30 years when I will not be stood either in the middle or on the side of a rugby pitch on a Sunday. Garden Centre visits, lazy Sunday mornings reading the paper and drinking tea, Sunday roasts and afternoon walks in the country here we come.

The weather finally seems to be getting more spring like thankfully because now I can wear flip flops. Bending down to put trainers on and do laces up was becoming near on impossible. But on the negative side the presence of bright sun in the sky may highlight facial hair more. This is a worry. The hair situation in my more private area is now officially out of sight out of mind. I have no idea what is going on down there. My belly is thankfully blocking any view. Rather like Unicorn Brexit if you don’t watch the news or drive up the M20 you can pretend it is not happening for a while and live in blissful ignorance of the craziness that is unfolding around us, or like our politicians become so engrossed in Unicorn Brexit that it is the real world that they seem to have become ignorant of. Anyway, enough serious stuff. Tomorrow me and J are attending an antenatal class for 6 hours. 6 whole hours. If we can get through that I reckon we can bring up a baby.