It looks like this:
While you're looking at the map, realizing that the streetlights are all coming on, and starting to feel a little bit bashful, a helpful driver stops and asks you through the window if you're alright. You respond that you're fine, and just taking a different route home (i.e. you lie). He looks at you and says, "You have a pushchair. On your back." and you respond, "Yes. I know." and he drives on. You do a u-turn and get on the right road this time.
And that's when you decide: it's time for beer. Alas, you know there's none at your house. So you stop at the store by your house, and as you're locking your bike up (which is a real challenge with 2 feet of stroller behind your head), you overhear two teenagers who are looking for a bootleg talking about you, saying, "Nah, she's got a pushchair in a backpack. She's not a good choice." Ha! So you get your beers, and get yourself home, the whole while congratulating yourself on (a) getting the stroller at least halfway in the backpack, (b) not falling off or getting hit by a car, and (c) sacrificing £3.79 of the "saved money" for two celebratory Budvar beers.