Giving up travel was a difficult moment: doing the work without getting to deliver it is like training for a race you never get to run. The midwife having banned flying, my last foreign trip was to Paris by train. By that stage, if I'm honest, it was exhausting - and my ample tummy barely squeezed behind the little tables that flap down so you can eat dinner. But I still struggled to let go when I read the following email on the Eurostar home: 'We are busy going through the process of ensuring we get short-listed on South Africa’s biggest pitch this year. Can we get you out here for the pitch to demonstrate our commitment, and you get to work off that IOU? Have no idea when pitch will be, probably next month.'
I owed them because I’d postponed an earlier trip due to morning sickness. I reluctantly replied: 'Would love to but officially designated Too Fat to Fly. If you put it off til February will bring Junior for his/her first taste of Africa.' When I got home I unpacked my travel bag. It was like the end of the sixth form: you know you’ve been through a lot, but you don’t know what you’ve achieved, and you sure as hell don’t know what comes next... [CONTINUED]
In today's bulletin:
Tories aim for business vote with NI pledge
CBI boss Lambert falls with Mandelson over 'dotty' bank watchdog
China flexes its muscles with Volvo deal
The Parent Project: Officially Too Fat to Fly
MT Expert's Ten Top Tips: Prepare for possible changes in Westminster