On Thursday I took Arthur out for a walk to the Library and Waitrose in his Silver Cross coachbuilt pram. This pram is huge and very 'old school' - it's the sort of pram you see in newsreels from the 1950s where mothers made daily visits to the butcher, the greengrocer, the fishmonger and were able to leave their pram parked outside without the fear that pram (& baby) would be whisked away to be sold by unscrupulous types on Ebay. Needless to say, my visit to the Library and Waitrose did not involve me leaving my precious bundle outside. These days wheelchair ramps and automatic doors are my best friend. Several people commented to me on how lovely it was to see someone using a "proper" pram, but best of all were the people who I saw having a look at the pram and then peering over the top to check there was actually a baby inside and that I wasn't one of those slightly deranged ladies who likes to push her worldy goods round with her wherever she goes...
You'd think the box of Persil in the shopping basket under the pram would have gone some way to proving that I'm not a bag lady.
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