For nearly an hour, I watched the soon-to-be parentsbarely out of sixth formfumble their way through anticipation.
Id recently visited my GPs surgery for a gynaecologist appointment. As usual, the waiting room was crowded; the doctor was running late. Behind me stood a pregnant girl, around eighteen, accompanied by the soon-to-be dadher age-mate. These parents paid no mind to the queue, acting as though the world revolved around them. The father announced to the hallway with shameless delight:
Isnt it brilliant that its a boy? Eyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
He must have repeated it ten times, until a sudden thought struck:
Oh! We havent picked a name yet! Lets name him after one of the doctors!
He strolled along the corridor, reading the names off the brass plates, making wisecracks as he went. Finally, he flopped back down beside the girl and giggled again. An elderly woman passing on her way to the loo shot him a disapproving look and scolded:
Young man, please mind your manners!
He turned, bemused by her tone, and with a smirk replied, Grannys expecting, too! Eh-eh-eh
The girl tittered softly, wearing the same vacuous grin. I had to muster every ounce of restraint not to say something myself, not wanting to spark a row with a pregnant woman. Then the father latched onto a new topicfood.
Im starving! Meeeehhhhhh
Im so hungry, and well be here another half hour
Lets nip out for a pasty! We can come back after.
I dont fancy a pasty.
Youve gone all fussy! Ha-ha-ha
Everyones head was pounding from their racket, butmercifullythe pair slipped out, off to God knows where for a pasty, or maybe a scone. It hardly mattered. What did matter was their departure.
Shuddering, I wondered what kind of upbringing their child would receive. Most likely, it would be just as ill-mannered. I could only hope the grandparents would step in, although, seeing how their own children turned out, I doubted things would change for the next generation.
