Congratulations ... Or Not

I was rather amused to see a retraction in one of the papers today.

It said -

My apologies to Amber Aikens, delightful wife of Chelsea restaurateur Tom, whom I said yesterday was pregnant. In fact, she tells me she is not. 

Crikey. I hope the editor, sub-editor and reporter managed to get their Manolos out from their mouths safely.

Growing up, I was taught to give up my seat to old people, very young kids and women with a bun in the oven. Being a good little girl, I did that on a regular basis. Until the day I gave up my seat to a lady on the bus and got yelled at. Apparently she wasn't preggers. She was just kind of chubby and terribly hormonal.

Well, that taught me. After that I would eye women suspiciously. Unless they were severely and blindingly preggers, I was not going to risk a bollocking by trying to be kind.

Then there was the time I was at a dinner party and met a couple I had not seen in ages. She was much bigger than before and wore a big, billowy gown that could pass for a Cirque du Soleil tent. 

So I congratulated her in total delight on being preggers. And wanted to die a thousand deaths when she frostily informed me she was not preggers. Yes, we are still friends although I had to grovel big time.

But I got my own comeuppance.

I was in a taxi in Singapore after spending the day shopping and doing the ladies who lunch thing. I remember I was wearing a red salwar kameez. The taxi driver was extremely friendly and when I reached my hotel, he very solicitously asked me to be careful and to watch my steps as I got out.

I was a bit puzzled but thought, what a nice guy!

And then he congratulated me on my pregnancy.