The plane is ready to go. We are free. But then there is some kind of kerfuffle near the front. Raised voices. A foreign language. And then a steward strides down the gangway, holding two massive shishas.

'You forgot your shishas in the lounge!' he says, very loudly.

People turn to look at us. They assume we are so stoned we forgot our own implements. We smile politely as the steward stows them above us, and then he gives us a conspiratorial wink, as if to say, 'I know what you two are up to ...'

On the way home, we decide that if anyone asks, Wag can be Titty, and I will be Biff.

WORRY

As they get older, it seems many men tend to find concern in the idea that they are turning into their fathers.

I am concerned I may be turning into my mother.

As my wife grows her perfect baby-sized bump, I find myself becoming increasingly worried about the dangers of modern-day life. Dangers I never saw before. But there is danger everywhere now.

Cars. Stairs. Parks. Ice. Shoelaces. All of them deathtraps.

My Lord. I'm even using the word deathtrap.

My mum knows all about danger. As I grew up, this once carefree and footloose Swiss woman could suddenly see potential accidents and terrible occurrences everywhere. No matter how unlikely, no matter how infinitesimally small the risk, they were there, around each and every corner. It was like she had some kind of magnifying danger-periscope.

And now, suddenly, and as a father-to-be, so do I.

'Usual rules apply!' I will yell at my wife, as she embarks upon some unnecessary, life-threatening mission, like popping to the shops to buy milk, or sitting in the garden looking at birds.

'Rule 1: No talking to strangers!'

'Fine!' she will shout back.

'Rule 2: Look both ways when crossing the road!'

'Will do!' she'll reply, casually, as she slides into her winter coat, and I will be concerned she is not listening.

'In fact - no! Look right twice!'

'Yep!'

'Did you hear me? Look right twice! Look right, then left, then right again!'

'Sure thing,' she'll mumble, and then she'll usually mumble something else, but it's almost like she doesn't want me to hear it. It's probably something grateful.

So I'll run downstairs, to make sure she understands.

'You're Australian - we drive on the left over here.'

'I know. I've been here eight years. And also, we drive on the left over there.'

'Yes, but you might forget. You're crossing the road for two now. I can't always be there to get you across the road. That is an unreasonable demand!'

'I will look left twice.'

'Right! Look right twice! Look, do you want me to come with you?'

'No.'

I hope my wife is not going to be a bad mother.

'What's Rule 1 again?' I say, testing her.