Against Her Better Judgment

Fate has a dark sense of humour, and she is not to be tempted. Put a haircut and afternoon tea at Claridge's in the diary, and Fate'll guarantee your little darling arrives a week early (what's that about first ones always being late?). The night before...

With pregnancy comes a weirdly enhanced sense of smell: part pregnant, part bloodhound.
They date your pregnancy from the date of your last period. More informed people might know this already. I had no idea. Weird? Yes. Any point in arguing that it's mathematically pointless to do so because your husband was on a work trip and you have...

From the sofa on Sunday evening, back screaming from neck to coccyx, arms leaden, belly taught and heavy, and feet and ankles approaching the size of fully inflated pufferfish, I conceded to The Writer that I might, at seven and a half months pregnant...

I've not sat on a horse in three months, and I'm not sure I've ever missed anything more (at least not since I lived in Tanzania on my gap year, and spent nine long months dreaming solidly of cheese).
Comparatively, it seems such a short time and yet my legs and bum and nose and brain and heart are crying out for it. But when you're six and a half months pregnant, much like unpasteurised cheese and a good, strong gin and tonic, riding is one of life...