I was sitting, waiting on some food. (Café Fish on the Lisburn Road does a fine chicken burger.)
This was the day Belfast had struggled to work through the snow, only to discover that the city itself was clear. By then, the damage had been done; the morning commute took hours. There was something a little sad about that: fighting your way through the traffic, taking your chances with iced roads, only to discover that when you finally get into the city itself the snow has disappeared.
I waited on the burger so that we could head on to the first of our ante-natal classes at the Royal. We’re pretending that it’s possible to prepare at least a little bit for what’s to come, but actually it’s more waiting. Waiting for time to pass, for maternity leave to begin, for birth, for life.
So I kill time by taking photos in the wing mirror.