IT WAS Saturday morning and I headed into Glasgow for some shopping.
Running for the train, I managed to hop on just as the door was closing and found a seat next to a young girl with a pram.
Now the pram was pink. Very pink! So obviously she had a new baby girl. The girl's hair is in a tight bun and my eye caught sight of a very large gold name chain underneath her Kappa track suit saying TRACEY.
I opened my magazine and began reading when we pulled into the next station. On stepped another young girl with a similar pram and, on recognising the girl next to me, she shouted. "Tracey. Tracey. Is that you? OMG. I didn't think you were due for weeks."
"Oh hi Michelle. Aye you're right. I was two weeks early."
Michelle squeezed her pram into the carriage beside Tracey's and sat down ready for a good blether and a catch up.
I endeavoured not to listen, but it was impossible as their conversation dominated the carriage.
"Well, how was it?" asks Michelle, who was clearly dying to know how the wee bundle in the pram came about.
"Oh. You know," answered Tracey. "I took every pain relieving drug offered so it wasn't too bad."
"Lucky you. I was in agony for two full days," said Michelle. "At least you had Joe there for support."
"Joe!" Joe was no help whatsoever." Tracey ranted. "I was in the last stages of labour when suddenly the baby's heart monitor went haywire and started bleeping really loudly."
"OMG," screeched Michelle.
"I screamed for the nurse thinking something terrible had happened to the baby."
"Was everything OK?" asked a frightened Michelle.
Nodding, Tracey replied: "Joe was in the middle of a game on his PlayStation console when the battery died, so the bright spark decided to unplug the baby's heart monitor and put in his charger!!!"
All ears in the train carriage were now focused on the young mums' conversation.
"Selfish," agreed Michelle. "Some guys are just selfish. When my Gary was in at the birth of wee Jamie, he was constantly on his mobile; he ate his way through all my chocolates and crisps and then asked if he could go home for a rest as 'he was tired'. He was tired? I was blinkin exhausted."
"Then," Michelle continued, "I found out when I got home that the proud dad had been passing pictures of the new born baby Jamie around for everyone to see with me in the background."
"That's terrible. Tracey replied. "Nobody looks their best at a time like that. Not even film stars."
"Oh, it was worse than that," explained Michelle. "I looked at the pictures of him and the baby, and there I was in the background …. WITH MY LEGS STILL UP IN THE STIRRUPS!!!!
Tracey shook her head in disbelief and returned to the tale of her own labour experience. "The girl I shared my hospital room with had her baby boy in the hospital car park."
"No way," screeched Michelle. "How on earth did that come about?"
Everyone in the train carriage was now engrossed.
"Well," continued Tracey. "Apparently, she went into labour but decided to stay at home for as long as she could and, by the time she arrived at the hospital and got out of the car, the baby started coming."
"No way," exclaimed a horrified Michelle. "So she actually had it in the car park?"
"Yes," confirmed Tracey. "And she told me it was just a blessing she still had her tights on."
"Her tights?" queried Michelle. "Why was that a blessing?"
And everyone in the carriage was now wondering the same thing.
"Well," apparently the baby shot out so quickly that her tights broke his fall."
"No way," replied a gobsmacked Michelle. "Geez. That was a blessing!"
By this time I had my magazine up over my face as I was grinning from ear to ear as I imagined the poor girl in a hospital car park with her new baby boy caught in her tights.
"Anyway," Michelle continued, peering into the pram. "I see it's a wee lassie you've had."
Not exactly a brilliant deduction given that the pram was draped in pink feathers, pink cuddly toys and pink covers.
"So what did you end up calling her then?"
My magazine was now discarded as I, like everyone else on the train, waited for the answer.
"Well, we were thinking about Senga after my mum. But she doesn't really look like a Senga.".
"True," agreed Michelle, having another glance at the tiny bundle of pink.
"And Joe fancied Margaret after his mum. But it didnae sound right calling a wee lassie Margaret." explained Tracey.
"True," Michelle agreed again.
"So I thought …"
We all waited with bated breath.
"I thought we might as well call her Tracey after me.
"And," she continued, proudly pointing to the large gold piece of jewellery around her neck, "that way when she's older, she can get my name chain!"