Ken writes: I had Hugh at home today, and the weather was so nice, so about mid-afternoon or so I decided to take Hugh for a walk. I strapped him on my chest in the BabyBjorn and we staggered on up Killiney hill. The view was superb. There wasn’t a wisp of haze about and what clouds there were, were puffy and peaceful against a staggeringly blue sky. We lingered there; me wishing I’d brought the camera, and Hugh chewing his hat, sighing contentedly.
Then I remembered I’d left some beans on the stove! I’d thought I’d be awesome and set them cooking well in advance of dinner so the flavour would have time to develop. (I’m an indifferent cook, but one thing I know from years ago when a Spanish flatmate’s mum stayed with us for a couple of weeks is that Spainish-y things like beans taste nice if they’re given a good long time for the flavour to develop). Well I don’t think Dot was going to give me any brownie points for dinner if I burned the house down!
So I took off running down the hill in my jandals with the baby strapped to my chest and bouncing alarmingly up and down with each stride. I had to keep stopping to pick up his hat and put my jandals back on as they kept slipping off. Eventually I thought, ‘Bugger this’ and put out my thumb to hitch a lift and what do you know, the very next car stopped and was happy to give me a lift down to the Ballybrack shops! Hooray for Ireland! The guy did seem a bit perplexed that I was hitch-hiking on a suburban street with a baby strapped to my chest, but he immediately grasped the urgency of the situation when I told him I had a pot on the stove.