First day of maternity leave, I've already mentioned on my facebook status that I'm bored, so really I have no excuse for not updating my blog.

My birthday was on the 4th and we had a great couple days away. Met the Frenchman at the train station after work and went to sunny Birmingham (hour train ride from Nottingham) to stay at the Hyatt for two nights. We settled in, went for a quick walk and a drink (café pour moi, watered down pint for him - it was a Wetherspoons), then back to the very plush hotel room 1111 overlooking the Birmingham canals for roomservice and an early night. Unfortunately my meal was inedible -cajun chicken that was drier than sand, we called to complain and got the meal comped and a free club sandwich (much better).

The next day we went to Sea-Life after having breakfast on a little canal boat. We strolled around the aquarium, dodging adorable little English kids in their school uniforms holding hands in the buddy system, cooing over the frisky otters, laughing at the box fish (little cubes that can swim!) and squeezing each other in fear in front of the giant electric eel we first mistook for a log.

Back at the hotel we went for a swim - my first swim since I've knowingly been pregnant. It was great to float around, be able to lie on my stomach and get some exercise. The Frenchman got to try his first jacuzzi and we enviously looked at the couple joking around with their 4 year old daughter in the pool.

Tapas for dinner, then breakfast in bed the following morning while reading The Guardian.

Walking in the rain to the train station to head back home we passed one of those impromptu sing-a-longs that are being used in adverts. A whole crowd of people singing Valerie with gusto under their umbrellas.

The train ride back to Nottingham held a weighty significance. We were leaving our last holiday as a childless couple, two selfish adults meandering from place to place and previously beer to beer, with no responsibilities. Moving towards a life as three. This train from Birmingham New Street to Nottingham felt like a train to parenthood. There's a slight sadness about what is being left behind but reassurance too, like when all of a sudden you realize that you've left your book in the hotel room and you're upset with yourself for having lost it, but relieved that you know where it is and feel comfortably resigned to never seeing it again.

The next time we'll be on a train there will be three of us. A little person made up of me and him and her own will and heart and soul.

And I ache with the thought of the first time she holds my hand, or makes up a story to keep us entertained, or asks if I can kiss her goodnight one last time.