There are certain things in this life I have vowed never to do.
I mean apart from the obvious, such as thou shall not kill, no matter how much a person has peed you off. Or thou shall not run off with best friend's husband, no matter how much he makes you laugh.
If you have a conscience and you're a nice person, there are probably quite a few things you would never contemplate. But putting aside all the glaringly obvious stuff, I am referring to the little every day things you see and hear, and mentally note to yourself, "I'm never doing that!"
I have a 'forbidden list' in my head, it's a substantial list, and a couple of the items are as follows:
If and when I am lucky enough to be a mother, I will never discuss the contents of my babies nappies, because I have heard this conversation before and quite frankly it's gross, and why would you want to dwell on it and make someone feel sick by elaborating on something which should go in a dustbin and stay in a dustbin.
Also, if I do become a mother one day, I shall never sit in a public bar and show complete strangers pictures of my child/children and not notice their eyes glaze over and mistakenly think they are interested in every moment of my child's life, when they have never met my offspring and are highly unlikely to.
Dear readers, it is with deep regret that I must inform you, I have failed fantastically to achieve the above. One could say I have let my standards slip. Or I've merely become caught up in the moment and forgot about my 'forbidden list'.
You see, it was my friend Sophie's hen night at the weekend. I left daddy in charge of Tommy, and feeling like my right arm had been chopped off, I boarded, without my three and a half month's old son, two trains to a bar in London.
We'd purchased tickets to see The Dreamboys, with a hot buffet and a complimentary cocktail. That's right, The Dreamboys, the ones with the bulging biceps and risky dance routines. Not really my thing but I put on my polka dot dress and brown boots and joined my friend never the less.
But I couldn't help worrying about/thinking of Tommy. He's only three and a half month's old and time apart from him is very, very limited.
To put my mind at rest, hubby promised to text regular updates and I assured him I would check in as often as possible.
So, and regrettably not the first time, nappy contents were discussed over text. I know, I know, it aint pleasant, yet it's become common practice. It's easy to mock when you don't have a little 'un and you don't realise how important normal bladder and bowel functions are. I know I used to mock anyway, BT (before Tommy). And in case you were curious, chicken korma was my favourite Indian meal. Not any more.
It does not end there. I'm afraid, dearest readers, that I broke another one of my rules from the 'forbidden list'.
Last Saturday, whilst we were perched in our booth, after dancing on chairs and laughing at the men in the ridiculously tight shorts, I showed lots of pictures of Tommy, from my mobile, to a girl I have never met before.
"That's him in his fire engine pyjamas, isn't he cute!"
I then looked up to check the reaction from the girl I was over indulging with Tommy pics. She was desperately looking around the room, probably wondering who could rescue her or what was a polite reason to run.
Oh dear. What has happened to me? I have become the person I never thought I would become. I am doing things I vowed never to do.
I need to stop breaking my own rules. I must remind myself of the 'forbidden list'. If I fail to comply with any other items, there could be carnage. It could be an unsafe world, for everyone.
I need to find a quiet, dark, room and re-evaluate my life.
Believe me, it's in your best interest.
I dare you.
Mine'a a white wine please.
Would you like a beer?