Handbags At Dawn

“It can’t be the tomatoes or the peppers, he’s had both of those before”. “What about the cucumber?” Glam Nan enquired. “He’s had that too” I replied, resisting the urge to call an ambulance. A red, blotchy Chickie watched our exchange with interest, clearly wondering what all the fuss was about as he pumped his tomato like a stress ball.

It had all happened very suddenly. One minute he was cramming pepper into a perfectly peachy little face, the next he was sporting a leperesque rash. Glam-Nan remained calm having been there and done it all before, twice. I tried to pretend I was equally chilled whilst tracking the rash’s progress down his cheek to his neck.

It did gradually subside, along with my blood pressure although I’m still baffled as to it’s origin. I felt a second cappuccino with extra chocolate sprinkles was deserved after such a stressful hypochondriac moment.

My relieved, self indulgent buzz was short lived as the glamorous air hostess with the perfectly magnificent handbag, fresh from her trip to South Africa, chose to sit a bottom firmer than Chickies down next to me. Just when I was riding high on the wings of lactulose induced bowel movements and self clearing rashes, the tote of my dreams was flaunted under my nose.

She was also the chatty type. “Next Tuesday, I’m off to New York”. “Really? Next Tuesday, I’m off to Flying Fortress Family Fun Centre”. Conversation stopper you’d hope, but no. She continued describing every shopping filled detail of a life I vaguely remembered.

As I reminisced over my once regular trips to Paris to spend whimsical amounts of money on Furla’s finest, I could almost smell the leather. Today my nostrils are filled with an all together different aroma, the supplier of which was stirring in his pushchair.

Seconds later, two small arms reached out to me, much like Frankenstein, due to the constrictions of his very padded coat, and I pulled him onto my lap. As he cuddled into me with his snoozy face, fuzzy hair and rosy cheeks, I knew that I was the lucky one.

However, every once in a while I take a moment to envy the financial and personal freedom of the single. Then I revel in the smug satisfaction that they’ve got it all to come!