Like most mothers, I have a buggy. Unlike other mothers, mine is demented… haunted… possessed.
It has a mind of its own. Or so said the driver of a Brighton bus as I tried – and failed – to board last week.
I pushed one way, the wheels spun in a different direction. I tried to park it in the buggy / wheelchair space and it rammed another pushchair that was parked there before us. And a child was sitting in it at the time. Mortified! Everyone’s eyes were on me as we took minutes that felt like hours to get positioned. God bless the older, more experienced mother with her infinite wisdom. Without her she guidance I’d never have got the blasted buggy into the space.
Such was my embarrassment – I couldn’t take the heat – that the Pug and I got off the bus two stops later and walked the rest of the way back to the train station, sweating.
Damn you, iCandy Apple!