It might be hearsay but there is a legend that mothers in Britain leave their babies out in the yard to be ‘seasoned’ (also a common Scandinavian practice) , to harden them up against vagaries of weather and cold that can come sweeping in from the Atlantic, the Hebrides or the North Pole. Unthinkable in this day and age that a child could be left on it’s own in the wild, but these were the sixties.
Every parent was doing the best that they knew. There were no self-help books, online support groups, best selling books or talkback shows to educate and inform on the proper rearing of children. Growing up in a generation where they themselves experienced a late Victorian era offhandedness around child-rearing- the child should be seen, not heard ideology – they were just repeating the pattern.
Maybe it was the shock of having a baby again after six years (this was not a planned pregnancy), but when the newborn was wheeled to the Post Office and left outside to season while the mother attended to matters inside, all seemed normal. It was only after arriving back at Wellington Road some twenty minutes later that the shocking realisation hit home that the baby and pram were still sitting outside the post office. After a frantic dash (as she did not drive) , the carriage and child were found exactly as left and no harm done – the chubby cheeks of the infant might have been a little on the blue side however.
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