Never in my life have I been so glad to see the blasted thing. All its foibles – the squeaky mudguards, the clunky wheels, the unfathomable raincover that still seems to mean the child in the back gets wet – are forgiven.
But most of all I am grateful to the woman who caringly took it in and gave it a home, saving it from robbers and opportunistic parents, not to mention two solid days of torrential rain, and who has restored my faith in humanity. She reunited me with my buggy after I posted a few notes through doors in the street where I had left it, in a last-ditch hope that no-one had walked off with it. (I also persuaded the local newsagent to put one up in his window - when I told him I had lost a pram he looked at me as if I were completely nuts....)
The buggy rescuer is a nurse, and seven months pregnant. Now, if you were going to abandon an expensive buggy outside someone's house, could you have found a more suitable occupant?
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