I went to Notting Hill carnival a few weeks ago with a big group of people, and got drunk listening to good music. One of my friends in the group has a one-year-old, who was being looked after by her [the friend’s] dad at home. Her phone ran out of battery so she couldn’t contact her dad to check everything was ok, and that was stressing her out so she joined a one-hour toilet queue and asked the person manning the queue (a man of about 40) whether she could charge her phone while she waited. The man said no, and then called her a bitch for asking. I told her he was just a random dick making a random dickish comment, and not to take offence, but as a mother, she did. That, coupled with the battery problem, meant she left early, struggling to get out of the one million strong crowd and probably wondering why she came. She text me when she got home with a picture of her beautiful baby girl in the bath, by which time I was rather more drunk and charging my way to a sickening hangover the next morning. I woke up, was promptly sick, and crawled back into bed. My only purpose that day was to cure my hangover before like, 5pm, because I had a lot of work to do that night ahead of a busy week. And while lying on my right side trying not to be sick, with the curtains drawn that sunny bank holiday Monday, [Carrie voiceover please] I couldn’t help but wonder… how would I have felt being woken up today by a baby? How would I have felt leaving carnival early? Or not going at all? To look after a baby.