Natural born cheaters

Daisy was my first midwife at the London hospital where, upon finding out I was pregnant, I’d planned to have a ­straightforward, perfectly average birth with lots of euphoria-inducing drugs and expert medical attention. That, of course, was before I knew anything about the NHS and its methods.

My 12-week appointment was arranged through my GP. After sitting close to three hours in a waiting room filled with sweaty pregnant women who looked as if they might kill each other for a sandwich, I was shown into an office by a large 60-something woman in a blue smock holding a clipboard with my notes on it. She wore a name tag but did not introduce herself.

First she instructed me to stop taking Pregnacare antenatal vitamins, the bestselling supplement on the market, as they were, in her opinion, ‘complete rubbish’. Then she asked if I’d been drinking.

‘Hardly at all, since I found out,’ I said.