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Monday, February 09, 2004

Back in Cambridge now. But only after a most disturbing train journey which, for once, was not made disturbing by the diabolical train system in Britain. No, this time it was a rather innocent-looking young woman. Unfortunately she had a baby. Now I must make myself clear - it wasn't the baby which was the problem. I am sure that the baby needed feeding. I just felt that when the young lady whipped out first one breast for the nipper to feed on, and then another, before reverting to the first nipple for dessert it was slightly distasteful.

Now you may call me a prude. I'd often thought that much of the furore about breast-feeding in public was a little prudish myself and struggled to see quite why some people objected so much. Nonetheless, I tell you now, until a woman (I hesitate to use the term 'lady') has bared her breasts across a narrow table on a train you really shouldn't be too judgemental.

I really did wonder what was happening. More to the point it made me very uncomfortable. I had no idea where to look and am sure that the crick I have subsequently developed in my neck is due to the craning of it as far back as possible and then the continued flitting of it from left-to-right-to-straight-upwards to try to avoid the embarassment of lingering glances at her breasts. I wouldn't have minded so much if she'd asked but I think it is terribly rude just to pull them out as she did.

What if I had unzipped my trousers? Would I have been treated by her in the same way that I treated her? Somehow I doubt it. After the furore over Janet Jackson's (covered) nipple at the Superbowl I can't help but be staggered that people aren't more concerned with things closer to home...

A Prude.


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