Brussels - a weekend away with my very pregnant friend. What fun it was! We have known each other for years. And while she is a connoisseur of non-alcoholic brews now, she used to be able to ‘drink any sailor under the table,’ if you know what I mean.
Currently she sticks mainly to copious amounts of water. At eight months, that can keep you busy looking for toilets wherever you go. There simply is no more room for extra storage.
So there she was waddling across a church square trying to make it back to the hotel in time... Ironically, if she were a guy, there would have been an end to the waddling. Men are not asked to hold it (pregnant or not), not in Brussels, not in most places.
In fact, just there, as we were walking along the side of the church, we spotted a pissoir attached to the church exterior. Three open stalls with a little awning and electrical light dangling from above.
Even my friend cringed and she usually keeps her muted criticism of patriarchy to the fact that Japan’s Emperor is considering taking a concubine to produce a male heir.
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