Some women bloom in pregnancy. I just wilt like an old vase of tulips.

With four months still to go before touch down, I feel I have as much energy as a fairy light bulb.

I've missed lots of half-decent films on the telly over Christmas because I've fallen asleep on the sofa before 9pm.

And I know I've only been functioning at 30 per cent whenever we've been socialising with friends because they've come out with phrases such as: "I told you that ten minutes ago," and "WAKE UP!"

It seems I can no longer hold an intelligent conversation with anyone, although there has been some debate as to whether I ever could. I am, in short, as interesting as leftovers.

Still, the one good thing about being preggers at this time of year is that I don't have to make that same old New Year's resolution about aiming to lose weight.

I may already look like the turkey that got away but there's going to be a whole lot more of me come May, when the baby is due.

I also don't need to worry too much about getting fit. As it happens, I am going swimming twice a week but I'm not worried if I don't end up with toned and defined muscles. The truth is, it's only when I'm virtually weightless in water that I start to feel almost human again.

It puzzles me how some women can enjoy pregnancy. The outcome, if all goes well, is undoubtedly one of the most joyous experiences of life.

I was full of elation when I first met our daughter Eve nearly four years ago.

But the 40 weeks prior to that event were, as far as I can remember, a major inconvenience.

Apart from the physical and mental changes, I found it all so impractical. I couldn't find any maternity clothes I liked and so lived in an old rugby shirt of my husband's (which fitted me perfectly - thus proving that a pregnant belly resembles a rugby player's beer gut).

And the only way I could put on trousers was by lying on the ground.

I often had to ask others, sometimes complete strangers, if they could help me on with my shoes, as, more than once, I had the embarrassing experience of toppling over in public. And it'll be more of the same this time round.

I also find it a drag that I cannot indulge in red wine, smelly cheeses and pate - all of which were offered to me in sickening abundance over Christmas - as they could harm the growing foetus.

It's got to the stage where I regard a glass of lemonade and a Dairylea triangle as the height of sophistication.

Eve is finding the pregnancy a bit of a bore, too. Initially, she was thrilled at the prospect of a new brother or sister. But now she has become quite blas. She came to the 20-week scan with us and got it into her head that I was about to give birth. After five minutes of being completely unimpressed by the fuzzy image on the screen, she asked: "After they've got that baby out of your tummy, can I have my packet of crisps?"

She has no idea what her poor mother is going through.