I don’t care if there are people hanging around this blog I’d rather not have. Why should I give up something I enjoy for them? Exactly.

But I am pissed off all the same. At the ripe old age of 26 I am fast becoming an Angry Young Woman -if something nice happens to us I will fall over in amazement and probably go into labour on the spot, that’s how good things are.

I just don’t understand why in Britain everything seems to be so fucking difficult! For example, the house we are renting at the moment is far too small for us as it is and there’s bugger all room for the baby, but we have to wait until it’s born before we can be classed as overcrowded. I enquired as to where we might even put the pram, explaining that we have just about enough room for a crib indoors (I have no idea where the bairn’s clothes are going to go either) and that we’re not allowed to keep anything in the close – downstairs is not our part of the property and putting anything on the landing is a fire/trip hazard. Anyway, the recycling boxes are there. And of course, once the bairn’s born we’ll probably have to wait months before we are offered anything that isn’t some shitty ned-infested place. As for going private? Forget it! As soon as I mention I’m not working (and for valid reasons as some of you already know) potential landlords run a mile. Why is it that people nowadays assume that if you are a council tenant you are scum? And conveniently forget that they could only ever afford to buy their house because they were council tenants too?

This is supposed to be the happiest time of our lives, but instead of having lots of fun decorating a nursery and spending far too much money in Mothercare we are vainly trying to clear a little space for a total innocent.

I suppose I could clear out a drawer and put the bairn in that, or put it in one of those storage boxes that fit under the bed…