Last Friday, derod and I met P2 and M for some drinks at Emerald Hill. Believe it or not, it's my first time down that street. The place was nice. We met P2's friend too, who was quite funny. But sadly, bars are so not for preggies. Let me count the ways:
1. Me still gagging at this stage, so the saturated smoke smell did trigger some episodes of discomfort there. Good thing we sat on the outside later ; )
2. The menu. Sobby sob sob... most gian when I look at the high mugs of hoegardens, carlsbergs. And what did I order? Orange juice... so anticlimax.
3. Unfriendly chairs. We were on those high stools in front of a big barrel as a table but derod changed us to a normal table with chairs that have backrest for me. This son of mine doesnt like me to be in inclined positions, so even in taxis, where the backrest is more inclined than straight, he'll start acting up. Plus, it was the hour for his usual acrobatics, and I had such a tough time coping with the activity. Didnt help that the extended period of pokes aggrevated the insides, hence leading to gagging...
Think I'll be back, to enjoy talks over drinks in the cool of the night, after I pop. Such little luxuries should never be completely abandoned.
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