Dear men on the Jubilee line circa 4:30pm last Monday,
WTF?
I was that lady struggling with one buggy, two babies, and three flights of stairs. The one throwing you the ojo for being a bunch of - to borrow from California's illustrious former governator - unhelpful public transportation girlie-men.
Remember, yes?
As I've recently discovered, the tube south of the Thames is a buggy-accessible paradise: ramps, lifts, angels singing. North of the river, the tube is a syphilitic horse-drawn trolly accessible only by descending a gazillion stairs into the pit of Hades. Sadly Monday found me on the Hades side of the river.
It wasn't that the station was empty. About fifty of you swarmed past me, all fiddling importantly with smartphones because presumably that's what you do when you are a male impersonator with no actual cajones.
But I know you saw me because you stubbornly refused to make eye contact (an activity known in Britain as 'observing'). Finally a fellow mum came to my rescue.
Men on the Jubilee line circa 4:30pm last Monday: WTF? Seriously?
I can only assume that you are the same lot who wouldn't give me your seat when I was eight months pregnant. And I'm guessing you're the ones who go running home to furiously comment anonymously on message boards that if women want to be all equal now they'd better learn to stand on trains and enjoy it.
Girlie-men on the Jubilee line circa 4:30pm last Monday: take an example from my wise other half. He once held the door open for a well-respected professor of ours at university, a woman with famously impeccable feminist credentials.
She turned to him and demanded to know why he'd opened the door. Was it because she was a woman and therefore incapable of opening it herself?
My other half shook his head.
A hush fell. Boys cowered. Girls looked on for guidance in the manner that my toddler does when she's trying to decide if she should kiss her sister or punch her in the kisser. Then my other half delivered a response that sent boys and girls alike scattering along the corridor, holding doors open for each other willy-nilly.
My other half said: 'I did it because my mother taught me to.'
