Carrott fell in the bath yesterday. I told him he would, but did he listen? Of course not. Well, obviously not - if he'd have listened he wouldn't have fallen in the bath. But I can see this turning into a very uncomfortable logic loop from which there will be no escape, so we shall progress with the anecdote without giving this any further thought.

Right.

He's always been fascinated by the bath...he likes to sit either next to the taps or next to my head, staring at the water, splashing his paws in the water and, occassionally, sneezing into the water. I was lying in the bath yesterday afternoon (yes, I said afternoon. I'm pregnant, leave me alone) reading a book, when I became aware of Carrott's dangly belly resting on my forehead. A quick investigation revealed that Carrott was actually trying to climb over me to get to the other side of the bath.

An unwise move, Carrottcat...he succeeded and found himself sitting on a very narrow ledge, with an expanse of water between him and the door, with the shower dripping on him.

So he did what any normal cat would do under these circumstances. He panicked.

And jumped.

Now, you and I know that the edge of a bath is notoriously slippery. Carrott, being a cat, was not aware of this fact.

You can see where this is going.

Carrott spent the next two hours trying to dry out and get the delicate rose fragrance from out of his manly cat fur.

BUT...I just went into the bathroom, and where was Carrott? Sat in the bath! He looked a little disturbed, but he was sat there nonetheless. I do believe Carrott has been reading this book.

*Accidentally wrote "feels the feet", which should be a self help book for people trying to overcome foot phobias.

BRAIN DE-RAILMENT...AT THE WORST POSSIBLE TIME

I hate hotmail for when you're trying to do anything even vaguely complicated. When you're trying to organise two large groups of people, and everybody is sending emails to each other with attachments and suchlike, and you need to send those attachments to someone else for printing, and some people don't put subjects on their emails so you can't identify which group they belong to or find the information easily, and you also need to reply to the emails, and you need to ensure that everything is saved and everything is captured, and everything is all mixed up amidst junk emails and no amount of organising into folders will help, and you need to remember deadlines and things to do, and you need to have a million word documents open at once which causes your computer to crash, and everyone is getting stressed and demanding things RIGHT NOW...well, you see.

That paragraph...was it difficult to read? Yes? That's how my brain feels at the moment. I'm going to cry.

SNOWING!! IT'S SNOWING!!

It was snowing when I got out of bed this morning and it's still snowing now! Can I just say YAY!

However, this has ruined my good intentions of going into uni to get some books and do some work (bugger off am I walking for half an hour when my coat doesn't do up, I don't have any big jumpers that fit anymore and it's bloody freezing), but I suppose I can live with a day of sitting in the house, eating things and generally footling about the place.

PICKY FOOD RUT, BUT EASILY INFLUENCED TOO.

Strange times, my friend. Strange times indeed.

I keep getting weird cravings for foods, usually at the most inconvenient times. Alex seems to have got used to me suddenly, out of nowhere, saying "mint ice-cream with chocolate chips", "I need a vegetable spring roll" and "Hmm...cornish pasty", amongst others.

He seems to have got used to me watching every cooking show in the world**, including Masterchef (I know, it's very sad), drooling over the food and saying "I want that...no, I want that...no, actually, I want that" every time I see something different.

He's got used to my strange combinations of food. For example:
-- Tomato risotto and toast with strawberry jam
-- Chicken burger, spaghetti hoops and sausages
-- Hash brown sandwiches

BUT...the food rut. It seems that, unless I watch something that influences me, I only want certain types of food. All I ever really want is KFC Tower Burgers (ohhh, hungry for that now...), Crumpets, jubblies (little triangular ice-lollies - remember them?) and those cheap potato triangle crisp things you can get from supermarkets. And jaffa cakes. Weird.

**GORDON RAMSEY IS BACK!! PRAISE THE LORD, GORDON RAMSEY IS BACK!!! Oh, I love Gordon Ramsey. I love him so much. I once had a sex dream about him. But then, I love all celebrity chefs...weird, I know...but following a discussion with Alex we think we've sussed the logic behind it:
Pregnant = love food = love men who could cook for me = love men who cook with confidence = celebrity chefs are sexy.

Or just the link between food and sex and celebrity chefs and food...so celebrity chefs and sex. Makes sense, no?

Or maybe Gordon Ramsey is just the right side of commanding for me. I'd have him spank me with a spatula. Ooh baby.

God this is disturbed.

PARASITIC HEAD

I watched the bodyshock programme on channel 4 about the girl who was born with two heads. Well, I watched part of the programme - it upset me so much that I had to turn it off and watch Extreme Makeover Home Edition instead. But anyway.

They kept using the phrase 'parasitic head'...which I feel could be useful. "Not tonight dear, I've got a parasitic headache." "I can't come in today, my parasitic head is playing up." "Oh no, it's nothing to worry about - that's just my parasitic head".

I know the subject from which this phrase derived isn't funny in the slightest (not at all)...but I do like "parasitic head" as something to use in conversation.

Alex told me off (again)...he says that discussion of parasitic heads is not appropriate pillow talk. I suppose I can see his point.

CAT'S IN THE CRADLE...OR HE PROBABLY WOULD BE IF WE HAD ONE.

IF YOU GET YOUR ARMS ALL THE WAY AROUND THE BUMP YOU MIGHT GET A PRIZE...


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