And they're off

I've been invited down to the opening day of the Cheltenham Festival by Betfair.

Which is a week today.

Which is Tuesday 16th March.

Which is 3 days before Kate is due (or T minus 3).

Not one to want to miss out on all the action, and certainly not one to let me go and have any fun without her, Kate is currently plotting how to self-induce labour at approximately 11.25am on the Tuesday morning, at which point I'll have just arrived in Cheltenham and should be supping on my first pint.

So I've already placed a few bets on some of Tuesday's runners (Oscar Whisky and Dan Breen in the Supreme Novice Hurdle if you must know) just in case Kate goes all the way and manages to start squeezing out arrr Stav before I get to the racecourse, let alone into the paddock.

This is not out of spite, you understand. My darling wife is not capable of such nefarious emotions.

Or at least, that's what she tells me.