Harrods is synonymous with a certain kind of high-rolling, vaguely trashy luxury, a million square feet of ugly handbags costing a month’s rent and hushed rooms glittering with gemstones and ludicrous watches. But I used to hang out here during one of the more skint periods of my life: my years as a single parent. Only we who have brought up small children alone can begin to understand the despair of weekends where no arrangements have been made, no friends are free. Don’t give me parks: utter bleakness watching other people’s picnics with other people’s helpful, supportive partners. So I used to take mine to the Harrods toy department,…

Source: The Times September 28, 2019 23:05 UTC