Baby gates


What better way to relieve the stress of jet lag than by installing a baby gate at the top of the stairs in your parents’ house? (For extra, ruinous fun my parents have very steep, narrow stairs with a very smooth carpet lain on them, perfect for spectacular slides and crashes). The instructions for the gate are a twelve page manual. The first ten pages are a series of admonitions in carious languages to follow the instructions in pain of death or serious injury, which means the remaining space to print the instructions is slightly larger than a postage stamp.

The instructions come with no clarifying text (only when I looked on the internet did I discover that a part I assumed was totally redundant and just to prevent marking the walls was actually massively integral to making sure the whole thing worked,and then assembly was a utter joy. There were bits to prise out with screwdrivers, and pliers, and brute force, and there were screws to tighten with the world’s most fiddly spanner, and all this was at ten pm as various members of the family came to inspect things, because nothing relaxes me more than constant vigilance.

Still, after all this time the gate seems to be secure. I’m glad now I put it in place before La Serpiente awoke: my constant fear is that she’ll think my manual handiwork is a prime candidate for physical abuse, and fling the damn thing down the stairs. But let’s wait for tomorrow on that…


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