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It was very clear on the scan today, so although they have to tell you they could be wrong, I don’t think they were. Except for noting that the scan process was really cool and all was normal with the baby, there’s not much more to say. Now we can start getting ready for a little boy!

I just want to update this with a few photos:

Becky showing her bump recently.

My halloween party costume — inspired by the photo below of me from the Gurdwara.

Here is one of the scans of the baby — I took a photo of the print out so the quality is fairly low but I’m going to scan it properly later this week. You can see both his legs.

And another scan of the baby, he was kicking like mad and making a thumbs up signal. Way to go!

The wedding we attended in July had two parts — a Sikh ceremony in a Gurdwara and a civil ceremony in the Coventry Guildhall. In order to enter a Gurdwara, one must cover one’s head. So here we are outside the Gurdwara about to go inside:

Becky ready for the presence of the Guru.

Jeremy looking like a pirate.

Imagine Americans at the Democratic National Convention being blown up by extremist elements from within the country. Or Britons at a party conference — oh, wait, that actually happened. Yesterday’s news is deflating, I would say. That people are so utterly stupid and weak. I want to blame religion.

Like British General Dannatt announcing that British soldiers should be more spiritually prepared for battle, that they should be aware that death is not the end, that there is definitely an afterlife. So go ahead, get your head shot off. You’ll be eating steak and kidney pie and knocking back a Carling in heaven in no time! There are so many comedy gems to be mined from that statement that I can’t even begin to number them. Anyway I’m too depressed, remember? So, instead, I see a bright yellow balloon released suddenly by an anonymous hand and, as the air flaps out, the bright shape spurts farting around a profoundly overdecorated living room, circa 1973.

But isn’t religious conflict really a reflection of other forms of social discord? Maybe it hands an excuse for murder to killers, maybe it allows more people to believe killing is acceptable, but if there were no religion would there be no murder in the Middle East? No bombed political rally in Pakistan? No rape squads in Africa? If there were no religion would we be more or less likely to intervene in these situations? To improve them or worsen them? Or would it make no difference at all? Would some law of evil averages mean that on the whole we would all behave exactly as we always have?

The problem is, we have choice. At least I think we do. If we have choice, why do we choose to be so pathetic every day? What kind of loser thinks it is meaningful to destroy people attending a political rally? The meek shall not inherit the earth. The invisible silent strong shall inherit the earth. They are not meek. They are sensible, rational, ethical. But how can the silent strong inherit the earth when the violent idiot insists on existing and multiplying?

Isn’t there some field where all the lunatics can meet to kill one another and get this thing finished? They’re like disruptive children holding the whole class back. Go batter one another to death and don’t come home, we’re trying to evolve here.

All of a sudden I wish Christianity could convince me more. I wish I could believe that the man who spoke those words would return with vengeance. We deserve it.

So here are some photos of recent days…

Here is Becky surrounded by animals on the couch. Everyone wants to be close to her since she has been pregnant; she must be giving off mommy vibes. The kittens have grown quite a bit since this photo was taken, as has Becky!

Merle in her squintiness.

Benedict and her beautiful Asian eyes.

Becky on her birthday examines ‘Baby Animals and Their Mothers’ (from my mother) and holds her bump. Mom put a photo of her and me when we were younger (I was seven or so) at the back of the book. This was almost a month ago so I will update her belly growth soon.

Gordon in pursuit of his softdisc.

Retrieving the softdisc.

Gordon waits arrogantly close to Becky while she readies herself to throw.

Becky grins maniacally.

I laugh maniacally.

Our garden in September as the summer fades — note the chiminea added for cooking and fireholding purposes.

Despite the late season the geraniums were still blooming. They still are, even though it is now October.

The windflowers, given to us by Becky’s mother, were still blooming in September, though, sadly, they have finished now.

The chiminea and the grill sit side by side like two lovely grilled and smoked meat bearing trees.

Roasting red peppers in the chiminea.

This shot was too good to pass up, though a larger lens might have been helpful with the lowlight conditions. This is Bishopthorpe Road where all our local shops are. The crescent moon was sitting above the street amongst the multicoloured clouds while down below two kids were standing on the traffic island holding Dominos Pizza advertisements.

We have recently resumed taking a vegetable box delivery from our local organic farm. Here be the spoils.

Fernando by the chiminea’s fire.

I don’t know if I’ve detailed it here but Gordon has a phobia of hot air balloons. He actually fled the park one time because a balloon was taking off across the way and passing overhead. Then later I was in bed and he started barking and growling and when I got up, in a panic, and looked around I could see nothing. Then I heard the sound of the hot air balloon firing its air. In this case he started barking and growling and looking out the window, but when I looked there were no dogs anywhere, which is the only reason he will bark out the window usually. Then I saw it. Gordon’s nemesis… the Virgin hot air balloon!

I have devoured the tabloid and now I am its walking incarnation. I am black and white and red all over and you will love me in an instant. Therefore:

Go article.

We’re well on our way to the type of genetic selection that will allow someone to choose that their child should have the face of a cat or the eyes of an eagle!

Though the present case is not actually genetic selection — it’s more a form of cosmetic surgery. In case you didn’t link to the article, I’ll just tell you this Greek-Australian “performer” — which profession begs some kind of question itself — this guy had a living cartilaginous replica of his ear gafted onto his forearm. Let me be the first to say, AWESOME!

I mean one cool thing is that the ear was probably grown on a lab mouse which had to die for this artistic expression to take place. There could be no stronger expression of the power of art than a mouse kicking the little tiny thimble-sized bucket. And another cool thing… this guy has a living ear on his forearm! So it’s just cartilage and it doesn’t work. Personally I’d have chosen my palm for the new ear, but maybe “Stelarc”, if that is his real name, values masturbation more than he values his art.

Soon Angelina Jolie will decide that fake lips and fake tits are not enough. Brad Pitt is not enough. Adopted outcasts are not enough. She will want a new kind of marker, something that really signals her rampant individuality. Not another tattoo. No. A shape. Maybe not an ear, but a shape. Grown on the back of a lab mouse, from birth doomed to die, cartilage grafted, a 3D tattoo, a new technology of body ornamentation, beautiful.

And then everyone will have one. Next stop… genetic selection for the unborn. “Let’s leave the tail to grow, shall we, Doctor?”

“Whatever you say, sir. Though, I must warn you, it’s $5000 extra.”

“Do you take Mastercard?”

“Indubitably!”