Our lives were about to change forever, so we wanted to spread our wings while we could . . .
BY REBECCA HOLMES
So what do you think?” Euan asks as our punt glides along the River Cam, between the greenery and grandeur of the university’s college backs. “The Bridge of Sighs might not be quite up to the standard of its Venetian namesake, but it’s still got its own charm.”
“I can sing O Sole Mio if you like,” our punter, if that’s the right word, suggests before pointing out King’s College Chapel. “It’s where they have the famous carol services on Christmas Eve.
“Granted, it isn’t St Mark’s Basilica, but it’s worth a visit and you don’t have to queue for hours to get in.”
I lean back, as comfortably as I can, on the padded seat and let my hand trail where the ripples reflect the June sunshine. Some would say I shouldn’t be doing that. There could be all sorts of nasties in the water, the last thing I need in my current “state”.
When the thin blue line materialised on that little white stick, six months and three weeks ago, our first reaction was to stare at each other in disbelief. Then we squealed and hugged.
“We’re going to be parents!”
“We’ll be ‘Mum and Dad’.”
Or would we have our offspring call us Clara and Euan? Probably not. We’re quite traditional in some ways.
“Family meals.”
“Trips to the park. Bucket-and-spade holidays, donkey rides and ice creams.”
“A cot and toys in the spare room.”
I could almost hear the mobile’s tinkly lullabies. Then reality sank in.
“We’re going to be parents. Our lives are about to change.”
I remembered the chest infections I used to get. Bad ones, but almost worth the coughing fits for the time off school, in bed with my favourite fizzy drink, books and comics, the cat by my feet.
But then there was Mum’s worried face as she shook the medicine bottle and cajoled me to take the foul concoction prescribed by our doctor. Her frowns as she checked my temperature.
Euan remembered school football matches on Saturday mornings.
“Dad would drive me there and cheer from the sidelines. He sometimes looked a bit fed up, huddled in his coat in the rain. That’s Lancashire winters for you. It was probably the last thing he felt like doing after a long week at work.”
Impressive. Even more so as Euan was adopted and never knew either of his birth parents.
We took the ups and downs in
