With hindsight, not keeping it in the boot of the car is quite a wise move.
I can only imagine the bewildered looks and cautious questioning I would be on the receiving end of should it be exposed.
It wouldn’t take much more than a fender bender or a heavy accelerator foot for a member of my host Queen’s police force to be rummaging through the contents of my boot.
I envisage holster clips being released and faces turning solemn as the bag is opened and its contents removed, item by item.
Baby clothes. Several pairs of underwear. Pajamas. A bag of sucky sweets. A prepaid mobile phone. Not to mention the digital camera.
The absence of a roll of duct tape is all that would save me from spending my child’s first hours in police custody whilst they verified that it isn’t actually a kiddie fiddler’s starter kit, but is in fact nothing more sinister than the famed hospital bag.
Packed and ready to go, like my sanity.
1 week, 2 days.