Love thy neighbour. Wouldn't it be better if I just gave them a cup of sugar?

I haven't been on friendly terms with my neighbours since I moved away from Dublin about seven years ago. In Dublin, people know if you fart in a different way to the way you did the day before and everyone feels like they know everyone. The whole neighbourly thing is just not the done thing in London where it's a cardinal sin to ask a stranger for directions nevermind acknowledge that there are people living next door to you. It is OK to fart like a trooper without saying pardon on public transport though but that's a whole other story...

Since we've been doing country living on the edge of London though, it's starting to feel like I know half the town. I can rarely leave the house without bumping into someone I know and it's kind of fun. People wave to you when you walk by the shops and they know me quite well in Waitrose because I can't stop going in the place...OK that and the fact that I threw up all over their store, keeled over, and writhed in agony in their first aid room.

Anyway...a few weeks ago I had to go and see my new neighbour because I was p*ssed of about them piling up lots of bins outside the side of our house. We ended up chatting and I forgot about it till yesterday when I opened the front door and he said "Do you remember that time when you said if there was anything we needed, I should just call over?"

I stared at him blankly and a thought popped into my head. "I was kinda thinking cup of sugar territory..."

"Er yes..."I said warily.

"Well we need you!" and he launched into a rather long story about how his girlfriend had hurt her neck, he'd called an ambulance, now they were back home but she couldn't do very much.

"Basically, can you go over there in about half an hour and put the kids to bed?" They're one and two and a half.

It took a few moments for the request to connect with my brain and I could feel myself blinking furiously and my face flushing. He stared at me with an imploring look.

"I..er...yes...OK" I said in false bravado.

I admit...there was a moment when I wondered if it was all a ploy and I was going to be sold into slavery. I phoned the boyf up and explained what had happened and suggested my theory. I was greeted with silence. "OK, OK...maybe not slavery but they better not be any of those freaky deaky country people that get you to put your keys in the bowl and get swinging...." More silence and then him making me promise I'd call as soon as I got home. Ah, maybe he was worried!

Half an hour later, the bambino was hovering by his kids bedroom door as the one year old shrieked the place down like there was some heap of murderation going down. Wrestling with me as I tried to carry her to the bedroom, I actually didn't know whether to laugh or throw myself on the floor. The bambino, normally one to be walking along by guiding herself around the furniture or emptying out the drawers, eyed me suspiciously.

As I finally managed to get the one year old into not one, but two sleepsuits (I had no idea some people dress their babies like this!), the bambino went into meltdown mode and started slapping my leg as if to say "Get your frickin hands off that baby!"

I was glad I was able to help out but my God it was stressful and awkward! The kids had no idea who the hell I was? The two and a half year old would start shrieking when I so much as even attempted to walk towards her cot! I was mor-ti-fied!

When I got home, I packed the bambino off to bed and had a glass of wine to mellow myself. How do I get myself in these situations?

On another note, an email from HMV has just notified me that my Wii Fitness will be arriving within 5 days! Yay!

On a totally different note, my ma ended the Cold War and came to visit last Thursday. The joys of having a baby mean that mamas with grudges have to let go of them if they want to see their grandchild! She keeps saying "It's ages since you've been around to visit" Er, yeah I know! You were frickin blanking me for nearly five weeks hence the lack of visits! Mothers!

Sometimes I think it would be so much better if my family actually WERE

Well it's been a crack filled couple of weeks that's for damn sure. I've decided that my family are crackhead nutters. I almost think I should shove a crack pipe in their face and make their madness legit.

My ma and I, well it's day 30 in My Ma is Not Speaking to Me Even Though There isn't a Legitimate Reason. She did call me on Day 21 but after doing the usual filling me on herself and her various shenanigans, things quickly disintegrated and it became apparent that unless I groveled and let everything slide, the battle lines would stay enforced. There was some heavy artillery brought out and I'm sad that we still can't see eye to eye, but I just can't be involved in the games or the crackness. It's funny sometimes...but actually, on the whole, it's all just rather draining. I love my family, but my own family has to come first, particularly the bambino.

Do you know how all of this started? Because I didn't want to get drawn into the constant arguments between herself and Dial M for Bro - the 22 year old Monosyllabic, Moody, and Mean. I also didn't appreciate the flippant comments about him possibly ending up living with us one day as I have no desire to raise a 22, almost 23 year old. I made my feelings perfectly clear - he is always welcome to stay over but he can't move in. It wouldn't be fair on us or the bambino. Of course they had another argument and he ended up at our place and I felt very backed into a corner as if being challenged to see if I meant what I said. Cue this whole pallava...

Anyway...since then, Dial M for Bro phoned me up one day looking for fifty quid in his brisk Dublin tones where you'd almost believe he was brought up in inner city Dublin, instead of going to a posh school and living in surburbia... I agreed for the sake of peace and quiet. This was at 5pm. I'm in my bed minding my own business, when my phone rings at 11.15. I answered it worriedly because people don't phone late unless there is something wrong. Right?

"Er..NML, remember that money I said I needed. Well, can I come round and get it now?"

"Have you lost your effing mind? I am in my bed!" I howled at him.

"Well you didn't have to answer your phone" he said petulantly.

"You didn't have to bleepin' call me did you?"

Of course I declined. I'm not a gangsta hanging around on street corners late at night. That and he would never have managed to get a train to mine and back...

Like a numpty, I spent half of the following day trying to reach him. Why the frick am I chasing somebody about borrowing money from me? I felt like Samuel L Jackson's mother in Jungle Fever!

I heard nothing and after a week, I heard the door knock and I answered it to find him on my doorstep. I was on the phone to a client so I let him in without a word. I got off the phone.

"To what do I owe this great pleasure?" I quipped.

"Er...do ya remember that money I said I needed. Well, I need it!"

I couldn't believe the fecking cheek of him and I let him have it with both barrels. I sometimes think that my crackerjacl family take me for a mug.

"Jeesus! Stop busting my balls!" he whined.

"You have no idea what busting is!" and I gave him one of those shrivel your nuts looks.

"I was thinking...you know, you all need to chill out man...You know...relax...let things go...You're all too uptight!" he said with a grin.

"Are you stoned?" He claimed that he wasn't and that he'd just woken up.

Does he think I just fell out of a tree?

So yeah, it's been a busy two weeks but I shall be back...I have been beavering away (that's working not my va-jay-jay) and there are a few big things going on that I will talk about soon..... Must go, the boyf's snoring with the rubbish vampire movie in the background is reminding me it's sleepy time!

'Where's the tumbledryer?' has become the new 'Have you got a boyfriend?'

I'm going to shoot the boyf if he doesn't do all of the things around the house that he swears he's going to do every week. My ma bought us a tumbledryer nearly 3 weeks ago and it's sitting in the workshop outside..in the box. When she gave us the money for it originally she said "Now you'd better buy a tumbledryer. I'll want to see it!"
"Er...it's not like you're going to come around and ask where the tumbledryer is and I'll say it's popped to the shops!" I said in exasperation.

So now what's happening? Every frickin time my ma visits she asks about the tumbledryer! This is just like when I was single and my ma used to ask if I'd found a boyfriend...even if she'd spoken to me the day before! Every week I have to make up ridiculous excuses for my lazy boyf and in today's one I claimed that he'd hurt his neck. This is true (he slipped on the stairs yesterday) but that doesn't explain why he didn't set it up at the weekend. My ma's response? "He wasn't carrying the bambino was he?" and seeing me shake my head "Oh good".

His other 'crimes' include:

Going through a phase of buying 'art' on eBay and now my house is full of unhung paintings, some of which are behind the fridge. Every week he's promised that they will be hung up and they are still exactly where they have been for MONTHS!

Not unpacking his suitcase between trips. At the moment I am testing him to see how long it will take before he twigs that the suitcase fairy hasn't unpacked it and taken out his laundry.

Clogging up the TV harddrive with bloody HD wildlife programmes and then getting all twitchy about what I'm recording!

How many times can one person watch Face Off? Rambo? Demolition Man? and other stupid films that have people like Jean Claude Van Damme and Steven Seagal in them that only guys watch?


I got my bank statement this morning and noticed a lot of supermarket purchases. Curious, I added them up and was horrified when I realised that I'd spent £312 last month in my local supermarkets! That doesn't include any cash purchases I may have made or any of the visits the boyf made....I've decided that it's time for me to budget because not budgeting has me going in for a bottle of milk and coming back with £20 worth of groceries that I didn't need before I went in! Anyway...

The bambino is attempting to test my patience by ignoring my requests to behave herself. I know she's only 9 months or so but she understands 'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!' Right now she's gone out to the hall and suddenly realised that the front door makes it a dead end...Moments ago she was in the kitchen playing with the cat flap left by the previous residents and before that she was standing up watching TV at the TV stand and trying to figure out how to remove the Wii...

The boyf accused me of snoring last night. "I was snoring?"I said in disbelief. "Yeah you were!"he said gleefully. "Well I must have cold then!" I said firmly and he cracked up laughing. Well why else would I be snoring....?

I have to go...the bambino is pulling out one nappy wipe after another and eating them....

Overdue Browned Off Magicians Bag

Nobody tells you when you get knocked up just how pissy you can get when you go overdue. I have never felt so powerless to control something. OK, that was a lie. How quickly I forget that we got mucked around for almost 4 months buying our house and how uncontrollable being in a chain of assclowns was...

I've been in a relatively good mood for the past day or so, but Monday was a day of new lows. I mean seriously, how would you feel if a doctor rummaged around in your va-jay-jay like it was a magicians bag? Not only did she come out empty handed (not that I expected the baby to come out) but she said "Hmm, yes your cervix (sorry for the detail) is still closed. I can't do anything at the moment to kickstart labour" and then I watched her snap the rubber gloves off her fingers and I felt like wacking her over the head with them. It would be like that scene in Snatch (or is it Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels?) where the guy gets whacked over the head with a massive rubber dildo.

I didn't really know what my cervix being closed meant, but I figured closed is not good for a baby to come out and I felt deflated, frustrated, and admittedly like I was failing in some regard. The midwife then explained that actually, it doesn't really mean anything as it could open hours later. Basically it can do it at the drop of a hat. But clearly, because I'm still frigging typing...it hasn't.

They've booked me to be induced...can you guess when? Yes, on the night of the day we move.... This is like a bad dream where my va-jay-jay is taking centre stage. I'm just praying I pop before then.

The boyf clearly has the patience of a saint as he has stayed his good natured self despite me being a crotchety cow. Of course, he has people phoning all day long offering advice and he got an earful when he phoned to reel off the latest list (if one more frigging person says to walk, so help me God I'll whack them with that rubber dildo - and no I don't own one) and I bellowed down the phone "Oh tell 'em to piss off! Oh OK don't..." I am walking every day, forking out a small fortune in acupuncture, and doing everything possible to avoid being induced next week. If I could bend myself round and shout up my va-jay-jay to the bambino and tell it to get a wriggle on and come out, I would!

And how come so many men have advice on labour? Can you name one man that's given birth?

How Now Brown Moody Cow

I have been a moody bitch from hell for the past couple of days but thankfully it's starting to taper off now. I'm impressed that it's taken me till the 39th week to become properly hormonal and demanding that the bambino comes out, but the poor boyf hasn't known what to do with me. "Everybody else is having their baby! WHY AREN'T I? IT'S NOT FAIR!" and fair play to the boyf, he pissed himself laughing. "NML, it is not a competition. This is one of those things where you can't get competitive!"

The bro spent a few hours with us yesterday which was entertaining. "Where is our baby?" he demanded as soon as he came through the door - seemingly me having a baby means that everyone is having a baby... At least he's not like my mum who refers to it as her baby... "Have you tried eating curries? I hear that's good! Let's see if we can get the bambino to arrive whilst I'm here!" he said excitedly. The boyf and I were cracking up laughing. "Oh yeah!" I said. "I KNOW that if I went into labour now, you'd be out that door and on your bike so fast!" The bro can barely even handle the words 'period' or 'tampon', yet he expected me to believe that he'd stick around for labour???

The boyf: NML, did you tell him about that time when we went up to the hospital?
NML: Er...no...(warning look)
The boyf: You didn't tell him about that time when you thought your waters had broken? (This was about two weeks ago)
The Bro: What happened? Had you pissed yourself?! (And he fell around laughing)
NML: No I hadn't you cheeky f*ck! Let's just say it was a false alarm and leave it at that ALRIGHT!?! (shoot the boyf murderous looks) By the way, how are ma and her boyfriend getting on? Are you calling him daddy yet? (I thoroughly enjoyed watching the bro squirm)
The Bro: I told you I don't want to HEAR IT! Fine, I'll shut up now...

The boyf did a plaster cast of my bump last night. The bambino, who seems to hate any type of restriction, went nuts whilst the cast was on my stomach, kicking away like a little maniac. The boyf claimed he felt like an artiste as he laid out the wet strips of plaster bandage which is nice for him as I felt like a mummified punchbag! When he took the cast off he said "Hmmm, I could see this as a fruitbowl!" When it's ready I will photograph it, ideally minus any fruit in it....

I ventured into central London to get my hair done on Saturday as I woke up from a dream on Friday where I went into labour with my hair all jacked up. Much like the dream where my mum says that she's a woman with needs (as in pleasure ones...), I woke up clutching myself in fright and made an appointment first thing. Bearing in mind that I have hardly anything left to wear and have to wear my jeans with the zip undone and a scarf through the loop, this was a risky business, especially when you don't tie them properly and try to expose yourself.... Of course I got to London Bridge and I thought my bladder would explode. Fortunately the Tube people were lovely and let me use their staff toilets, making a right fanfare out of it. "Let this lady through. She looks like she's ready to give birth any minute!" one of them yelled. Er, thanks! I was singing their praises to myself but that became short-lived when I realised that they had given me directions for a journey that couldn't be done because the piddling Tube line was closed! Thirty minutes of waddling backwards and forwards muttering swearwords to myself!

3.5 days to go till my due date. This truly is the waiting game... I'm off to eat a Mars Icecream....