Like many of my friends starting a family in their thirties, I embarked on the journey with the unshakable confidence of a woman with her own income, a challenging job, a great relationship and an indepth knowledge of city chic life. Until, of course, my little bundle of joy arrived with his own ideas. Jack is now three and I’ve acquired the blasé attitude of a mummy whose child eats his own food and can’t remember the last time he wore a nappy.

One of the first really nice restaurants we took Jack to was Locanda Locatelli. We’d been for dinner a few times in pre-baby days and loved the relaxed, but glossy feel and the really good food.

We went at lunch time and I was fairly confident that the Italian staff would barely blink an eye at accommodating a baby and I was right. The staff couldn’t have been friendlier or more relaxed. We weren’t rushed or made to feel we needed to make way for a baby-free, glossier couple as soon as possible (more on places that do make you feel like this in later posts)