Call Me Childcatcher!

According to my well-read nephew, the UK is in the middle of a baby boom. I was a child of the first baby boom in the 50s. My generation caused another boom when they had their children. Now the grandchildren of the baby boomers are starting to appear. That means, of course, we can expect a crisis in our schools, health service and housing any time now, since we never seem to be prepared for this fairly predictable set of events.

I'm kind of aware of a baby boom already, living as I do in one of those areas (East Renfrewshire) where people pay silly money for a house so they can get their kids into the local schools. Well, they do now. Before they just lied about their address. I've noticed a rise in the number of prams around (or 'transport systems', as I believe they are now called), not to mention people-carriers and those ridiculous bus-sized vehicles driven by young women who need two bays to park them in.

I also notice restaurants and cafes here are trying to be more 'family-friendly'. I even know of one restaurant that has set aside a room as a 'pram park' and offers young mothers specially-low-priced lunches. Whole Foods have a mummy and child session on a Monday where kiddy snacks are provided free and mummies get a drink and a snack at a discounted price. I'd love to know what effect this has on the takings of the places in question. You won't catch me in a restaurant with the yummy mummies - and I avoid Whole Foods on a Monday till about 5pm.

The trouble is: the small children in my family are absolutely delightful. Even when they're screaming the place down, we're fairly relaxed about them. Other people's small children are a pain in the arse.

Sometimes I wonder if there's a sign over my head telling young parents I canny be bothered with their howling offspring. That would be the only explanation for the fact that I seem to attract them. At the doc's today, I was in a waiting room with just two people apart from me and plenty of empty seats. When the young mother arrived with the screaming wean in the car seat where did she sit? Of course, right next to me. So radio chatter on one side and screaming wean on the other. What did I do? Went and stood in the corridor till my name was called.

Any chance of a pensioner-friendly surgery any time now? No, I thought not.