Do Do

Went for a lovely walk around Haigh Hall with my pregnant friend Sarah today.

The start of the school summer holidays, the sun shining, great company and a spot of lunch. Gorgeous.

Until I rolled the pram through a massive clump of doggie. Winner.

Is that it, you're thinking, right? Well no, it isn't. Under that black plastic casing above the wheel there is a huuuuuge chunk of the stuff, wedged tight, the wheel occasionally shaving off slivers of it and disposing of these pieces behind the pram, with me ultimately having to stop every 100 yards to scrape the soles of my slip-ons along the top of passing kerbs. The word you're looking for is: "loser".


We wandered though the park, politely tolerating the frequent wafts of stink which were intent on seeping their way into our pleasant conversation. Still, kept the squirrels at bay. Except that one with a peg on his nose. Ingenious little bugger.
After arriving back at the car with the majority of the stool still intact, I banged the wheel on the pavement a few times, but to no avail, so had to resort to tying a plastic bag around the offending corner before chucking the pram back in the boot.

So we returned home with an extra momento from our day out. How did I get it off I hear you cry. With a stick? A hosepipe? By smearing it on an old towel in the garage?

Er....hello? I'm not a complete idiot. I got married for a REASON.

Dave returned the pram to me, squeaky clean and ready to face another day.

I later found the plastic bag in the bin, with the last of his patience and dignity scrumpled up inside it.