It was all the stallholder’s fault for having such a nice face. He lured me into buying his stupid cushions and a leather elephant.
“Well, look…couldn’t we do all this online?” suggests Luke. “If we sit down together with a laptop, we could blast through it. Or give me a task. I’ll order decorations. Take me five minutes.”
Luke? Order decorations? Is he mad? Last time he ordered tree ornaments, he got six vile purple baubles and then, when I complained, he said, “Well, I think they look nice.”
“No, it’s OK,” I say swiftly. “I need to see them properly, in a shop. And, anyway, we need to support the British high street.”
“Well, couldn’t you go somewhere closer than Selfridges?”
“I don’t mind.” I give a slightly martyred sigh. “Someone’s got to put the effort in. See you later.”