Windy city
The combination of hills and gales make Edinburgh tricky to navigate. I am pushing Button uphill in the Tank (imagine an armoured vehicle, but without the weapons of mass destruction) with one hand. With the other I am holding Beanie's hand. The ferocious wind is slowing progress. "Want cuddle, Mummy," says Beanie. I put the Tank brake on, and pick Beanie up with both hands. The wind is lashing our hair about our faces. As if in slow motion, the wind shifts, catches the buggy containing Button and whips it backwards. The Tank overturns, tipping Button back towards the pavement. My heart jumps out my chest. I thank my lucky stars I remembered to buckle Button into her seat before we set off. She is sprawling at pavement level in her harness but looks unharmed. And unpeturbed. Beanie and I rush to her side, expecting her to scream in distress. She just looks slightly taken aback. But pleased to be getting attention. I right the buggy. Look around - both daughters present and correct. The tight, panicky feeling in my chest subsides. And they call Chicago the Windy City?
Posted
18 June 2009 19:20