The phone died in the middle of the night in the birthing suite when Anna was in labour. It just won't turn on anymore. Hey, maybe it was reborn as my son, some sort of tele-reincarnation. Perhaps we should name him Nokia instead of Joseph!
Please, if you think you're in my phone book, email me with your name and number so I can build my phone book again. The people at the fix place say it's 50/50 whether I'll get my numbers back or not.
I'm hoping for an upgrade, will settle to get my own phone back fixed and I'm REALLY hoping they don't pull the 'it's water damage' cop out line.
Joseph David Guille Smart who shares his birthday with:
His great Aunty Sue. (Dave's Aunty)
His Dad's Co-hosts son. (James Guzzwell)
Copernicus. (Clever but well dead astronomy dude)
Tim Shadbolt. (Mayor of Invercargill)
Seal and Falco. (One named singers)
Prince Andrew. (Duke of York)
Huge thanks to Dr. Michel Sangalli, and, ok, they were either nurses or midwifes, Christina and Alexandra (we couldn't tell, they were all wearing the same coloured scrubs - but they were great anyway) at Wellington Hospital. While we like to take the piss out of the huckery old set of falling down buildings that make up Wellington Hospital, we could not have been in better care.
He’ll most like be known as Joe, a nickname that Dave and his Grandad have shared with each other for as long as they can remember, David for his Dad and Anna’s Dad and Guille is a family name passed down all the Marsden line.
Anna’s doing great, it was a long but normal delivery, it took him about a minute to work out how to feed and we’re now at home and they're both asleep. Sophie loves her baby brother and the grandparents are smitten too.
Oh, my phone has crapped out so use Anna’s or the home phone or email to get in touch, although please excuse us while we keep to ourselves for a few days as we get our head round having two kids!
All’s well. More photos later, see you soon.
The Smart Family.
Dave, Anna, Sophie and Joseph. x
When I first drove into Wellington last Easter to take up this job, I was gobsmacked by this great big fecking bridge with the name of the show I was taking over on it.
Some radio stations have billboards, some have TV ads, some have ads in bus shelters, some have all of the above. We have a bridge. I’ve never had a bridge before and I love it way more than our TV ads, bus shelters and billboards combined.
Yes, that's a 100k zone and I did nearly get killed taking this photo.
I can only imagine what it would be like for someone on death row waiting for the gallows. The inevitability of it. Your life will end in the very near future but it’s not actually up to you as to when it’ll happen. You can wish time away all you like or hang on to every precious second, it won't actually matter because it's not up to you.
We’re experiencing the opposite in the fact that our son’s life will begin, however the same inevitability remains.
Anna’s sick tonight, just feeling generally rubbish. This is on top of the heartburn and the heat that pregnant women feel in summer. Being pregnant could easily be described as a disability. Her movement is limited by this giant baby hanging off the front of her.
I was asked to go and play a game of netball tonight but I just don’t want to go too far from her. As for tomorrow, I’m due in at work as usual at 5am but if Anna goes into labour, I’ll be phoning the boss, he’ll answer in that murky with sleep voice, “huooo?” and I’ll say, “It’s on big fella, I won’t be coming in this morning.” And he’ll drag his lanky self off to the studio to fill in for me.
Good boss that.
So we wait. We wait for this boy child to come of his own accord. If I'm at work tomorrow, still no baby, if I'm not, we've got some action. We're hoping for action.
They wanted to know about the Sevens and while I could have done this off air, I thought it'd be more fun to have the conversation ON air.