In light of recent developments, I feel it is probably a good idea for me to fill you in on events that led from the two of us packing up to fly around the globe to our present position of happy nest builders. It won’t need the detective skills of Sherlock Holmes to work out that the pregnancy was not entirely planned (clearly it was about a year too early) but having said that we couldn’t be happier with the way things have turned out.
As I recall it was three days before we due to rent out our house and go to the farm that events took their new course. I had been getting stressed about Gill getting her jabs done as well as the lack of affordable accommodation in New York. I had taken up the usual stance necessary to deal with life’s trials (laid on the sofa in front of the telly) when Gill came back from the doctors after what I presumed was a routine batch of inoculations. I was armed with the latest set of moans and complaints but unusually Gill went straight upstairs on her return. Within a few minutes, she appeared over me brandishing what looked like a pen with two unmistakable red lines across the centre.
“What’s that?” I asked in genuine ignorance.
“It’s a pregnancy test,” came the reply.
“Whose is it?” was my next question and with the benefit of hindsight I realise how stupid this sounds. It is not really as if Gill might simply have come across it in the street and decided to show me.
“It’s mine. I’m pregnant”.
This revelation certainly took some time to sink in (I’m not sure it has really sunk in even now). “That’s bound to slow you down a bit when we go travelling,” I suggested. In fact the first ten minutes after being told were a whirlwind of confusion as I tried to work out how we could still go away despite having a baby on the way. Gill humoured me until I finally got my head round what was actually happening. Confusion quickly gave way to elation but that was soon followed by panic as I realised I had two thousand pounds worth of useless air ticket, no job and, before the week was out, nowhere to live.
The partial refund of the ticket was easily sorted. We lost some money but as we weren’t now going travelling we were no longer going to leave such a massive dent in the savings. The house wasn’t that much of a problem either. We told a few white lies to our prospective tenants and asked to reduce the contract to three months with the view to a return in March. The job, however, was an altogether different matter. I had made it plain in my resignation that I had had enough and that the trip was by way of refreshing myself after seven years teaching. I then had to return, begging bowl in hand, and say that I actually didn’t need refreshing and if it was at all possible could I have my job back. An advertisement for my replacement had already gone to press attracting the high level of interest expected for such a cushy job. What worked in my favour was the timing of my resignation. There was a short period of uncertainty but without much fuss I was reinstated. The headmaster laughed as he said, “It is a good job you didn’t tell me where to stick it when you resigned.” I smiled back with relief knowing just how close I had been to such an outburst a month or so before.
So there it is. The trip is off, I am back at school and it seems like we’ll be back home by the end of the month. In some respects it is business as usual but of course that simply isn’t the case. We are still embarking on a life changing adventure and although it will be played out in the wet and windy climes of Cumbria rather than exotic places around the globe we could not be happier. Thank you all for your kind messages; now what about a name? (Any ideas just click on the word 'comment' and go on as anonymous - you can sign your name in the text)
