Attitudes towards breastfeeding vary widely depending where you live and who your friends are.

I was not breastfed. I didn't know anyone who did breastfeed. I had no role model, apart from knowing I did not want to inflict the same childhood I had on my children. So I did not rush into it. I remember telling a friend when I was 21 or thereabout that I wasn't sure I should be a mother. I was too frightened to repeat the past.

My friend told me not to be so silly, that I would make a wonderful mother. And then it happened, I met the man I knew would be the father of my children. No more doubts. I remember crying the day we decided to get the ball rolling.

I knew straightaway I was pregnant, had this weird but wonderful feeling. And then I finally had it confirmed. No, I was not completely mad. Phew, what a relief.

I also knew I was going to breastfeed my baby. Pure instinct. That was before any midwives or doctors talked to me about feeding choices. Mind you, they were too busy trying to keep me alive. But that's another story...

So, my beautiful little girl made her dramatic appearance into the world and wasted no time enjoying her mummy's milk, as it would be called.

I'm prude-ish, or I was. The only thing that bothered was the idea of going public. Talking to a friend of mine whom I much admired and felt affinities with, she told me that she had done it when out and about. No big deal she said.

Of course she'd had her babies way before me, I'd only known her for a year or so when she moved to our part of the world. That was the kick I needed. If she could do it, so could I. So, on our first outing when Emily needed her feed, we found a cafe, I lifted my top and she was on. No drama, nobody ever saw anything.

I became so good at it that often people would often be talking to me without realising. I felt oddly liberated to be able to do this. Yep, because believe me, I still don't fancy showing my breasts in public.

I'm just glad I didn't have my babies in France. Can you imagine going for your postnatal check-up and be told by your doctor that it's time to look after your husband, let him have your breasts back. Excuse me, whose breasts are they? This is common occurence in France. Breatsfeeding is often frowned upon past six weeks if done at all. Six weeks?

So-called feminist, Elizabeth Badinter who has vested interests (long story), claims women are not baboons. She has other delightful insights of motherhood.

You don't tell have to tell me how difficult breastfeeding can be. I was ill throughout the pregnancy, the birth itself was dramatic and premature. I was very weak but aslo very determined, so I muddled through the problems and the mastitis and I'm pleased I did, and I would do it all over again, if only I could.

And yes, my breasts belong to me. I choose to do what I do with them. OK!