Full as a Goog

After seeing a recent pregnant photo of yours truly, a friend of mine declared that I was:

As Full as a Goog.

Slightly taken aback I asked her what language she was speaking.

Australian as it turns out:

Phrase: full as a goog - (Australian, simile, colloquial): having eaten too much, or being drunk


Given that was several weeks ago, I wonder what she would make of me now?  Coming up to forty weeks pregnant I have surely transcended full googness and now reside in the State of Bureaugrade.

As in Violet Bureaugarde.


You know - the one in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory who blew up into a big, purple blimp!

Spot the Pregnant Lady, I mean Violet.

In the likely event that I go past my due date, I wonder what I will resemble past forty weeks?

Nah. Too happy. I will not be skipping anywhere at forty one weeks.

Yep. That's more like it.

March for the Alternative

I want to attend this march in central London on the weekend. I'm not happy about the slash and burn cuts being imposed by the government. Health, education, child welfare, heck- any welfare, human rights, immigration and diversity, arts and culture, literacy, legal and housing aid are all under threat.  And that's just the tip of the iceberg.

However there's a few logistical problems in my way. My husband. And the fact that I'm nine months pregnant.

Power to the Bumps!

My husband has threatened to get a court order to sanction me if I go to the march. He said he'll have me declared Not in Fit Mind under the Mental Health Act.

Do you not care about the kind of society we are bringing our kid into? I asked

I care more about you not being kettled in by the police or thrashed by a baton. I want the kid to make it here in one piece was the terse reply.

Fair enough.

So I'll watch it on TV instead although the media will no doubt focus on the idiot minority who turn a peacfeul protest into a violent farce. They won't focus on the 20,000 other people who have turned out to express their discontent.

Years ago when I was active in the environment movement, an oft quoted phrase in much of the campaign literature was that of anthropologist, Margaret Mead who said;

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.

She also said


Never depend upon institutions or government to solve any problem. All social movements are founded by, guided by, motivated and seen through by the passion of individuals.

Governments will come and go but Mead's words will stand the test of time.

Enter the Dragon

Where oh where did those nine months go?

Enjoy the time chirruped all my (wise) mum friends, It won't come again.

And as I find myself perched on the precipice of labour, I couldn't agree with them more.

Why is it that we pregnant-for-the-first-time-women spend nine months fretting and worrying and busying ourselves with a million and one inconsequentials only to find that as we stare into the pit face of the unknown (a.k.a giving birth at any point now), we are none the wiser and wide-eyed as ever. The armour of information and stuff that you've accumulated over the past nine months is precisely that. Armour. It may help you but it won't do the work for you.

I have no control of what is about to happen. A thought that is petrifying and thrilling at the same time.

Looking back, I can now say that I have enjoyed my pregnancy. Despite the discomfort of symptoms, the hormonal madness and sometimes difficult life changes, I have enjoyed observing what's been happening to me; both physically and emotionally. 

I appreciate though that it is only the very beginning of something. Something enormous and fantastical. And by that I don't mean Dragon's head.

What I mean, is Dragon's heart.

I'm soon to meet my baby.

Oh boy.