My only form of transport, or let me call it four wheels, was a baby pram. The old fashioned ones with the hood. You might wonder what this is about.
I had made a new connection. Peter Curner, the professional snake collector, supplied me with a snake that was too heavy to carry but just the right size to curl up in a baby pram. The most practical transport for someone without a driver’s licence who had to transport live ‘stock’ four blocks away. I became a regular site running down Bree Street with my long evening dress, pushing the baby pram ahead of me.
I did cause the odd stir. Going down the lift was always my stressful time. The lift silence and sure shhhh sound like a deflating tyre coming from the pram. The enclosed space left no opening for any lift occupants with snake phobia.
Then there was the lady who came over to reprimand me for being out at that time of the night with my baby. I told her it was not a baby but a snake. She still continued to move to the contents of the pram as if I had not spoken. The last I saw of her was a small figure disappearing in the night with her arms in the air while her scream still lingered.
4 Wheeled Snake (1972)