Our son and his sweet, slender girlfriend – a very devoted couple for the past four and a half years – have been spending time in (separate) maternity wards.
They were setting the table the other day as I made the evening meal. Chicken for the carnivores, beans for the vegetarians.
Son [with enthusiasm]: I got to see a twin placenta today!
Girlfriend [with rapt interest]: Oh! What was it like?
[He told her but I have mercifully forgotten the details.]
Girlfriend: I saw the placenta of a woman who smoked! It was a funny colour and it was full of infarctions!
Me [prodding chicken pieces gingerly]: What are infarctions?
Son: Blood clots.
Girlfriend: That’s really interesting, isn’t it?
[They gaze fondly at each other.]
By then, even the beans were beginning to look a bit suspect. Still, romance is not dead in Edinburgh, which is good to know.
Personally, I prefer flowers.