It’s so hot that on the short walk from the café, the caramel on the top of my flapjack has melted. The garden’s packed – I sit amid a huge family who’ve spread out over four picnic tables.
The young child in the pushchair starts screaming as I wait for my tea to brew. There are toilets and baby changing facilities within spitting distance but instead the dad changes her on the seat of the bench opposite.
When the nappy comes off it’s directly in my eyeline. The gooey caramel sliding off my flapjack doesn’t look quite so appetising anymore.
