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were having here?
    ‘Lovely,’ I replied. ‘Thanks.’
    I sat down in the only vacant seat, in the middle of a sofa, sandwiched between two lactating women.
    ‘Hi Sam,’ someone called out.
    I looked at the culprit, a rather plump woman with short brown hair sitting on the sofa opposite. The voice sounded familiar but I had absolutely no idea who she was.
    ‘Hi,’ I replied, stalling for time. ‘How are you?’
    ‘Oh you know,’ she replied. ‘Busy busy.’
    No clues there. Who was she?
    ‘How about you?’ she asked.
    ‘Oh good. Still working away, you know.’
    ‘You remember Louise, don’t you Sam?’ said Laura, handing me a cup of coffee.
    Surely not? It couldn’t be? Louise? Laura’s best friend? Louise who was known for her agility and skill at bar-top dancing? Louise who coined the phrase ‘cheap bubbles leads to trouble’?
    ‘Of course,’ I lied.
    But Louise was skinny as a rake with long blonde hair. And stunning. What in God’s name had happened to her?
    ‘Lou’s little girl’s almost one now,’ said Laura.
    Oh, there we go then.
    I had seen Baby Makeovers before. But this was by far the most extreme case I had ever witnessed. From gorgeous, blonde, champagne-swilling girl-about-town to short-haired, plump nappy-hugger in less than two years. Unbelievable!
    ‘So, what do you do Sam?’ asked Eve mother-of-two, sitting on my right.
    ‘I work in advertising,’ I replied. ‘Account manager.’
    ‘Oh…a career woman,’ she said, raising her eyebrows in a manner that suggested being a career woman was akin to having genital scabies. ‘You must work long hours?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Married?’
    ‘Pardon?’
    ‘Are you married?’
    What kind of question was that?
    ‘No,’ I replied, flicking her the Death Stare.
    If she sticks her beak out any further, I thought to myself, I’ll lose an eye.
    ‘Oh,’ replied Eve, as though she had just taken a large swig of vinegar instead of coffee.
    ‘Sam’s a lucky single girl,’ piped up Laura, adding for enthusiasm, ‘God how I miss it!’
    This comment solicited several well, yes of course, but look how complete our lives are now! smug grins from the others.
    Before Eve had a chance to further interrogate me, the talk somehow turned to nappies. I had absolutely no idea how.
    ‘Yes, but disposables are so much easier, aren’t they?’ said Ursula mother-of-one.
    ‘Gosh yes!’ agreed everyone else. ‘How people coped with all that washing I’ll never know.’
    ‘I use cloth nappies,’ admitted Jenny mother-of-two.
    ‘What, all the time?’
    ‘Well…during the day.’
    ‘God, I don’t know how you do it!’ chorused the others.
    ‘Bit of a problem lately though, because Tom’s poo’s all runny. It’s really rather yellow too.’
    ‘Have you taken him to the doctor?’ asked Rosie, mother-of-three.
    ‘Yes. Thinks he might have some sort of stomach bug. Doesn’t seem to be worrying him though.’
    ‘Could be dairy,’ suggested Rachel mother-of-one.
    ‘Sophie had that problem too,’ said Louise. ‘Turned out she was reacting to the cow’s milk I was giving her. Had to put her back on formula.’
    ‘Well our Jack’s going through a phase at the moment,’ said Natalie mother-of-two. ‘Just loves sticking his hand inside the nappy when he’s done!’
    Oh dear God! Think happy thoughts, I willed myself. Champers, shopping, Thai takeaways.
    ‘Before you know it his hands are covered. He’s just so quick too.’
    ‘God, how does he manage it?’ asked Jodi, mother-of-one.
    ‘Buggered if I know!’
    Ten minutes later and with the conversation still firmly on nappies and poo, I evacuated myself to the bathroom and took my phone with me. It was a SMS emergency.
    Stuk n bb hell! Need evac! Ring asp. Prtnd seppy client. x I found Mands’ number and hit send.
    I sat back down on the sofa. They were still talking about Jack’s uncanny ability to stick his hands inside his nappy.
    Three minutes later my mobile rang and I