I thought I’d better formally announce via blog post (!) the birth of our son Rowan Alexander Abel-Copithorne on Weds. 19th March (one day before Daddy’s birthday, which is nice) 2008. Rowan weighed in at a hefty 8lb 13oz (old school) or 3995g (in your fancy new metric system). He was delivered by C-Section after a ridiculously long 48 hour labour (I know it’s not a competition, but wow…). He was too big to come out and apparently - having spoken to him since - he was also quite comfy in there, thanks. Oh, and he was the wrong way round as well. I blame myself, I think I distracted him at a cricital moment. Silly Daddy.
Adrienne and baby are both home now and are doing well. Rowan is delightful and beautiful and cute and sometimes resembles an evil genius hatching sinister schemes, but mostly looks like a cute little bear. He has been a dream so far. Adrienne is beautiful and a wonderful mummy and ridiculously hardcore. I mean, for real, yo…
You can see photos on www.flickr.com/photos/rikabel right now, I’ll try to organise some sets and stuff for ease of browsing when I get a spare moment. Hahahhahaha! heh. heheh……sorry.
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First New York, then London! We had a blackout last night for nearly…ooh…three hours. The tube trains were all stopped - some people were trapped underground for several hours in the dark. It was no big deal. Unless you are a tabloid newspaper for whom it seemed to be a dress rehearsal for the apocalypse. People had to take buses instead. Or walk! Imagine the inconvenience. Naturally in the report I read the “Dunkirk Spirit” was summoned in about the second paragraph. Let’s try to get some perspective here, people.
I rather enjoyed it, actually. Normally reticent Londoners bonded in their shared incovenience and discomfort and opened up, talking garrulously and sharing their innermost feelings. Ha, no, of course they didn’t. On my bus I would estimate that 70% of the passengers were totally absorbed in txting on their mobiles. The rest stared fixedly at a spot about 10 inches in front of them, as is standard London protocol.
Anyway, things like this just reinforce my determination to commute by bike whenever possible.
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Those 118 guys are really starting to freak me out. Am I alone in this? In fact, I have dreamed about them. Twice. Which means it is probably a quite brilliant advertising campaign. Certainly kicks the arse of the dancing 11 88 88 people. Apologies to non-British people who won’t have a clue what I’m on about.
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