About José

The other day I was complaining to Jose about the inconvenience of our telephone arrangements. The proper phone lands you with a wireless phone to hold, leaving you with one free hand to do other things (like what? One handed dusting? Scratching your bum or rubbing your tum?). The internet head set frees your hands but ties you to the sofa (where you can do what? Rub your tum stereo? Dust the table two handed?). What I want is a wireless headset! Which, to my great luck, has been invented some time in the past when I wasn't looking. A few hours later, Jose (who should be working on his thesis) knows all about them and has ordered me one, to be delivered soon after the baby.
When he finds me the next day working up a cramp in my left shoulder, peeling sweetcorn off the cob corn by corn (6 cobs in one go, one of my few peculiar but endearing obsessions; pound-a-bowl, who could say no to that very special offer?!) while at the same time trying to catch up on German gossip in a 1-2 hour conversation (ok. Let's be honest: I'm talking to Nirite, so make it a 3 hour conversation), he simply grabs an elastic band and ties the phone to my head. That's the kind of domestic gentleman he is. What am I saying - domestic god.
Same guy who cooks me salmon and brocoli dinners after any long day while telling me to sit on the sofa and rest and breed some more.
Same guy who won't let me clean my sticky juice spillages off the floor and quickly does it himself.
OK, he did laugh at me and ran to take a picture of how silly I looked. And I do! As silly as I would be to think he was not the most wonderful partner and best equipped papi-to-be I have ever come across, or ever will.

For all of you who've started phoning to enquire whether the baby was still in or out yet - still in, and apparently quite comfortably so.
Five days to due-date.

P.S. Note The Nose. Baby's fate.