Boden and above!

The weekend so far has been uneventful - no wine, no snakes (of any variety), a couple of canine visitors, a walk with a friend, a run with another and now sat under a grey sky outside my favourite cafe - people watching - a favourite  pastime.

As well as an eclectic mix of arty types, students and professionals this particular spot is  also a favourite of the Boden Mummy Brigade (BMB) who feature heavily in the local landscape. For the uninitiated, Boden is a successful British fashion label popular with professionals and middle class mummies...

The BMB are easily identified by their uniform of skinny jeans, boots in the winter/ballet pumps in the summer, perfectly highlighted blonde swishy blow drys (although  a few brunettes have joined the ranks since Kate Middleton's elevation to the royal stage) and they generally own equally well groomed black Labradors - no podgy chocolate Labs for these women - with names like Otis and Milo, and children with shaggy hair that look  like they've stepped out of the Mini Boden catalogue and not seen a pair of scissors for some considerable time.

They eat little and drink sparkling mineral water or (pretend to drink) very skinny flat whites (too many calories to finish the cup); their emaciated frames having snapped back to pipe cleaner proportions within days of giving birth to Octavia or Aloysius.

Whilst feigning interest in each others children, the subtleties of their overheard conversations make it clear that no other child surpasses their own offspring's seemingly limitless talents; competitive parenting at its best.

I often wonder how I would have fared as a parent, if I'd been fortunate enough to have had children, because let us not forget that children are a choice and a privilege, not a given.

I've concluded, possibly to make myself feel better about being childless, that I'm better suited to the role of mad auntie. I'd probably have been an awful mother, if the BMB is the yardstick by which to judge, as I don't look like a pipe cleaner, the dog I did briefly own could better be described as a canine of mass destruction and my niece loves me 'cos I let her eat chocolate cake for breakfast!

Anyway, parenting it seems is a lot harder than merely fitting into skinny jeans and buying the right hound. Just last week, I sat in this same spot observing three members of the BMB. I was with a lovely friend who has two gorgeous children, but has yet to join this exclusive club as she is secure enough not to need too.

We could hardly contain our mirth when one of the three stated that, even though it wasn't fee paying, the school her daughter went to was acceptable because all the mothers wore 'Boden and above'. Is that really how parents select the best educational facilities these days?

Somehow, I think I'd fail miserably so I have reluctantly accepted that my role in the lives of the children I love is the best one as, whilst I may not have given birth, it permits me to spoil them rotten, eat chocolate cake for breakfast, wear Boden and below jeans and generally behave in the manner of an irresponsible adult....oh, and most of the time, what fun that is.

And, talking of being an irresponsible adult, have I told you about my tenure as the owner of the canine of mass destruction? Comedy of Terriers, also the title of my second novel, coming soon... my search for love looks successful in comparison to my attempts at pack leadership...