Pregnancy Diary Week 9

Dear Diary

So can we just talk about sausage rolls for a minute? I feel like some sort of secret service agent roaming the streets of Dublin in search of the perfect sausage roll and I'm kind of OK with it. I wouldn't mind, but typically I wouldn't care too much about them. I don't want to say "I wouldn't thank you for them" because that term kind of annoys me. I want to respond to people and say "well you can thank me but you don't have to eat them". A lack of manners really bothers me these days.

God, I am hormonal. Ever feel like you have zero tolerance or filter? I'm caught up in that kind of reality at the moment. I seem to have a lot more feelings than I did nine weeks ago which is a bit scary because I am a very very emotional person by nature. This week, I've cried over a toilet paper ad on the TV and the fact that a package was too difficult to open. I totally took that second layer of duck tape to heart. Like why is life so hard? I also may have cried over sausage rolls.

Oh yes, the sausage rolls. I'm still feeling nauseous. It's growing stronger every day and I'm kind of terrified about when it will eventually crescendo. I think I mentioned it before, but I was never physically sick on my last pregnancy so I keep having visions of how that will be this time around if it happens. Should I be carrying a sick bag around with me? How will I explain it to my four-year-old who is always by my side? Is it bad for my teeth? I have a lot of questions. Anyway – so far no sick.

I can't put my finger on the sausage roll thing. I think I got the smell one day walking past a butchers' that had a deli. I wasn't thinking about food or even feeling particularly sick or hungry but those pregnancy smelling skills are on another level.

I remember on my first pregnancy I was sitting upstairs on a double-decker bus and could smell the packet of crisps that someone was eating at the back of the downstairs level. I knew they were King crisps and I actually knew they were a really good packet too. You know the perfectly symmetrical golden type that has the perfect level of flavouring? It's all coming back to me.

Since the incident of the sausage roll smelling they were just on my mind I guess. It was a very specific kind of sausage roll though, you know? I needed it to be super soggy pastry. Not the ones in the deli that are "golden brown" and would break your teeth. I wanted soft, soggy and nearly verging on under-cooked (not the sausage, just the pastry). As for the sausage – peppery but not too peppery. And then I found them. Naturally, it was in a garage I'd never usually pass but when cravings strike you just have to act fast.

I had just recorded a podcast with a media company and it was only about 10.30am so not a time that I would typically feel hungry. I had managed to wolf down a decent breakfast before the sickness got too intense (I've learnt that eating immediately when you wake up is key. Hunger = sickness). I was walking back to my car in the full knowledge that I only had about three minutes left on the parking meter but the rebel in me came out in full force (I am not remotely rebellious or spontaneous and have been known to "plan to do something spontaneous"). I couldn't un-smell this like.

I walked by the Deli and there was a massive queue of builders ready to order their morning breakfast roll. Johnny at the front was debating between brown or red sauce and I wanted to scream at him to HURRY UP but I exercised a small amount of self-control and continued to eye up those beautiful pastry covered sausages.

As the queue slowly moved along I became a bit frantic. I started counting the sausage rolls and working out the likelihood of them being gone by the time I got to the front of the queue. It was some kind of cryptic equation of probability. If Michael in the hard hat orders wedges then James behind him will have a clearer view of the sausage rolls behind them. MY sausage rolls. There were eight left and I knew I needed at least three. But what if Bob The Builder here beside me chose those soggy ones at the back? Surely he wouldn't be so cruel. I was starting to sweat at this stage.

As I got to the front I spotted the little beauties. Still there and perfectly soggy. It took everything in my power not to wolf whistle at them. I played it cool as I ordered and pointed to my sausage rolls of choice. I then proceeded to leave the store only to realize at the door that this was in fact, a purchase, and not a gift from the Gods.

I made a bee-line for the queue but not before opening the bag and taking a little bite at the biscuit aisle. It wasn't one of my finer moments. There is something oddly uncomfortable about having to hand a shop attendant a deli bag that's been opened and therefore the barcode has been interfered with. I thanked him and gave him no eye-contact but I knew that he knew. I was covered in crumbs. Sexy soggy crumbs.

I proceeded to walk to the car and am fairly sure I vocally groaned as I scoffed all three in record-breaking time. I was six minutes over my parking time and I didn't care because this thug life had chosen me. I was on the dark side and there was no going back.

And then began the next phase of the game. Days spent chasing the dragon and trying to find the perfect sausage rolls once again. I contemplated driving back to that garage when after a week of over-cooked rock-hard sausage rolls I had just had enough. I needed them and I refused to feel any shame about it.

And just like that I no longer wanted to see a sausage roll ever again. The thought, smell and idea of them completely turned my stomach. Cheers, pregnancy.