My day in 1970: Being a 1970s mum

I wake like I have every morning for the past 4 weeks, to the sounds of my baby boy over our baby monitor winding up like an air raid siren to an all out cry for food. I turn my head to peer at the blinking red display of our digital alarm clock. It's 6:30, a blissful hour later than normal.

Today's task is to do the food shopping. The internet hasn't been invented yet so I make up a bottle for my son and make sure I'm sitting in front of the television to hear the weather report at 7am. While I'm feeding Josh I flick through the other 3 channels in the vain hope that something will keep me entertained. Where are Kirsty and Phil and epic re-runs of Location Location Location when you need them? Or Netflix come to that. 40 years in the future I suppose.

A few months ago our local corner shop closed so now I have to struggle to the supermarket every week. Leaving the house is a military operation. Even though our new pram has a great detachable carry cot so that it goes in the car, it's hardly a quick fold Quinny buggy. I strap the carrycot onto the backseat (car seat laws didn't exist back then) and finally win the battle with the wheels to get them in the boot. Urgh, it's enough to make me invent online shopping.

At the supermarket I put on a baby sling as there aren't any trolleys with baby seats yet. Josh is already screaming and there's no mother and baby area so I'm forced to fix his nappy on the backseat of the car.

In my rush to leave the house, I forgot my chequebook and I have to detour to the bank to withdraw cash before I can finally finish the shopping...

A persistent beeping interrupts my thoughts and I slowly wake up, a hand snaking out of the duvet to silence my iPhone. I smile. Thank goodness for 2012. It's easy to forget how lucky we are.