I just smiled at a middle-aged woman on a pushbike, and she looked at me as if to say, “do we know each other?”, and I thought, good point, we don’t know each other, why am I smiling?
That was a straight solidarity smile – you are on a bike, I also have a bike. I wouldn’t just smile willy-nilly at anyone the same age as me, they would have to be doing something that not all of us do: vaping; cycling; whistling. I’ll always smile at a baby in a pram, but I won’t smile at the mum, because I remember how much I used to hate it when people assumed that, just because I had a baby, it meant I was nice. You’ve already lost so much identity, so fast. I will, however, smile at a dad, because if he’s pushing a pram, he’s pulling his weight. I know that walking to the nursery is the absolute bare minimum and doesn’t tell you anything about the distribution of household chores. I can’t help it! I was born in the 70s.
