Summary
Here's always a good reason for not going into labour. Last week it was because the new bed was due to arrive. Some of you may remember my excitement at managing to persuade the husband that we needed to replace the ancient, narrow bed we sleep in - or, in my case, don't sleep in. Ever since that weekend when we slogged up to Taunton and agreed on the shape, size and colour; ever since parting with more money than I've ever spent on anything (it cost four times as much as my first car), I'd been waiting for it to turn up.
The bed shop, scenting a sale, had promised it would be with us before Christmas, a major factor in our decision to go ahead: we didn't want to be tinkering around with delivery men and the odd hours they keep when the new baby was imminent.See the full content of this document
Extract
Bed Delivery a Real Labour
A few days before Christmas, I still hadn't heard anything. I rang and was told that for some inexplicable reason (that it was upholstered, which they knew from the start) it wasn'...
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