Herbert agrees to draw up a pregnancy bucket list with me. I expect a gushing-forth of profound longings and long-held ambitions, but I am wrong.
Who the hell was I? Laying on the sofa for hours at a time, there was little else to do but inventorise my life. I was happy with everything, as long as it was a work in progress. But there loomed the great unknown. What would a baby do to me?