The problem with book swap/booze club is that the same books often resurface. This week it was the depressing story of Madeleine: Our Daughter’s Disappearance and the Continuing Search for Her. The book’s reappearance (for want of a better word) led to an exchange of childhood stories of forgetful parenting. Abigail was once left at the roadside after her older sister closed the car door on her. She remembers the sound of screeching tyres as her father rushed back to pick up his four-year-old. Abigail also remembers her mother dropping her shopping bags in the middle of the street when she saw her daughter being walked home by her teacher.

Fortunately, Natasha’s sister doesn’t remember being dropped on the car floor repeatedly because her big sis was entrusted with holding her before their parents thought it best to buy a baby seat. Neither does Sarah remember being placed in the fridge by her distracted father when she was a baby.

Perhaps this is one of the reasons I do not want children. Forgetting to bring your gym bag home is an oversight; leaving your kids somewhere is neglect. Or perhaps I’m just selfish. I wouldn’t choose a 6am daily alarm clock and a lifetime of responsibility. And I wonder why the decision not to have children has made the front cover of Time magazine. Apparently, one in five American women end their fertility years maternity-free. Wow – four in five American women are still having kids?

Or maybe it’s just because I still have plenty of growing up to do myself. Last weekend Hot Danish and I had an awful row. ‘You are both great as individuals but seem to bring out the worst in each other,’ Natasha said. ‘Perhaps you could get a pet to soften each other and have something else to care for?’
‘But we don’t have space for a dog or a cat,’ I replied.
‘No, I was thinking of something smaller with a short life span.’
‘I think our place is too small for a hamster,’ I said firmly.