So here’s the thing, a simple text message boings its way to me on Tuesday evening. It’s my friend Kerry, who I met (it feels like) about a hundred years ago when I worked at WHSmiths after leaving art college. We worked in the ‘Sounds’ department and sold, as you can probably guess, CDs and videos. Pre DVDs – Now, that makes me feel old.
Kerry was cool. I wanted to be her friend, but in those days, in my head anyway, it was tricky for boys and girls to be friends and nothing else, without dropping the “I’m gay” card in their lap.
One night at the local Ritzty, I had to do just that, to stop her friend bouncing on my lap and from that point on, we were firm friends. We meet every year, twice a year and catch up on all the gossip. Kerry is brilliant, because she talks to me as though I was her ‘girlfriend’ and in a way, it’s like free counselling and I get to learn about all the stuff women don’t really talk about outside of their gender.
Anyway, after the text came through saying that we should ‘do food’ the next evening, I knew that she was pregnant. Ta da! Crystal Ball Darren does it again!
Pineapples.
Even though, the subject of inducing labour has cropped up with my other friend Cerian, I didn’t really understand why pineapples would hurry along the birth. I assumed it was probably they same way that pineapple juice induced long cleansing bathroom sessions, like after we’d bought the juicer and had drunk pints of the stuff one Sunday afternoon, but no. She explained that it’s an enzyme in the fruit that is the same type as that found in sperm. Ergh. And also that, the spermy enzyme tricks the lady into opening up all the right channels so that she can get pregnant. Enough said.
I love Kerry.
Filed under: Baby, Food, Gay, Girls, Gossip, Kerry, Normal For Norwich, Pineapples, Pregnant, Ritzy, WHSmith, Wednesday
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