15 September, 2005

Poor old Mr. Waffle went for lunch with a Danish colleague yesterday
who told him that the car we bought is prone to exploding when
parked. A hunt on google reveals that this is apparently
true. But only in Nordic countries (something to do with their
excellent social model, or possibly the climate) and only for older
models. But he is now officially worried about the vehicle we
have selected to transport our precious progeny. In an effort to
ensure that he continued in this happy frame of mind, another colleague
whose wife is also pregnant reminded him that Sunday is car free
day. This colleague has got a special permit to drive on Sunday,
in case his wife needs to go to the hospital. To get the
permit, you need to get a note from your doctor stating that you
are pregnant and take it to the commune. I have refused to do
this. I think that, if we are stopped by the police on the way to
the hospital, I can persuade them I am pregnant. Or we can get a
taxi. But my spouse worries.

Comments

poggle

on 16 September 2005 at 12:48

I do think the police might actually notice that for themselves, don’t you? I mean, I hear you have a bump. A visible bump.