“Gahhhhhhhh.. I swear, the next person who thinks it’s ok to jump across the front of the pram is gonna get their ankles taken out”, I cursed with my teeth clenched whilst pushing the pram along the busy streets of Central London. The missus however, shakes her head, flashes that smile that I fell in love with before chuckling to herself then linking her arm with mine.
Clearly I’m over-reacting and she knows it. But she’s better than I am – things like this don’t really bother her. I on the other hand am all about etiquette for the most part. Like a typical Londoner, I hate my personal space being invaded. When my son is buckled into his pram, it becomes an extension of me, so jumping over the front of my son’s ride let alone getting too close to it leaves a taste in my mouth worse than drinking orange juice too soon after brushing your teeth. Continue reading “The Ballache of Pushing a Pram Around Central London”