Ok, I wasn’t. But still.

On Friday afternoon Suzy and I went shopping at the big shopping centre called Bluewater. Usually we start our expedition around all the shops mid-late morning, but madam required a lie-in because she works way too hard. So we got there, I don’t know, around 1pm. What others would term lunchtime. But they’re wusses who didn’t have late breakfasts and who don’t use this as an excuse to buy a cookie at Millie’s Cookies so we can have our lunch later after we’ve had an initial crack at getting some booty. We ended up having lunch at 4pm. A supposedly light lunch of vegetable chow mein for me and sweet and sour chicken with egg fried rice for Suzy. Later that evening, when we eventually returned home for tea, I didn’t each much and for the first time in living history, Suzy didn’t clear her plate. We’ve had it framed.

On both our lists were sandals for our Galapagos trip. We had a few unsuccessful browses in shoe shops and sport shops, before we finally came to Blacks on our trek around the centre. They had a much better range of the type of sandals we were looking for, although that still only meant one or two in my size.

I tried on the lesser of the two evils in the size 11 that was on display and though the length wasn’t bad, the straps didn’t do up over my foot. Suzy accosted a sales guy and requested her size in something she’d picked out, but he disappeared before I was able to put in my request. However, as we were to discover over the next God knows how long, I’m not sure he would have coped with having two things to do at once.

I sat for an age with this shoe in my lap while Suzy tried on a variety of sandals that were brought to her one by one and an old couple jumped in with their request and Mr Sales Guy came very close to having to do more than one thing at once.

Eventually I was able to request a 12 in the sandal that I wasn’t especially fond of. He cluttered off and came back saying that they only had an 11 1/2 in that design, but - in an astonishing display of multi-tasking - he’d found this other design that was in a 12.

The 12 was much more appealing as it was brown, not light grey and had a suede sole, not a foam one. I tried both pairs, wandered about a bit and decided to take the browns. Woohoo! Big fat weight off my mind.

The other noteworthy events of our shopping trip are all people-related. I attracted the attention of a variety of people while out that afternoon.

1. The Lorry Driver

On the motorway on the way to Bluewater, we came level with a lorry. I looked up to the cab and found that the driver within was not bad-looking, at which point he clocked me and we grinned at each other. Score!

Ok, that’s fine. He moved on up the motorway and that was that. Until we drew level with him again a few moments later, but on the other side of his lorry. And Suzy was caught by him, quite plainly checking out the guy her friend was telling her about. Ack.

Oh well. He moved on up the motorway and that was that. Until we went off down the slip road and I leaned right forward in my seat to see if I could see him as his lorry carried on up the motorway. Yep, I could. And he saw me too. Oh crap.

The lesson learned? It’s best to remember when you’re not in Suzy’s inconspicuous dark blue Clio and are instead being ferried about in the thoroughly conspicuous bright yellow van. It makes it easier for lorry drivers you’ve smiled at to remember which vehicle you’re in.

2. Harvey

Just as Suzy went to pay for her shorts in Dorothy Perkins, I spotted a brown jacket that I hoped would fit. There was a full length mirror a couple of metres away, so I didn’t need to go back into the changing room. I tried on the 6 and wondered, hmm, is it a little tight on the arms? Not sure. I tried the 8 and it didn’t fit anything like as well. Things were no longer nipping in or hugging appropriate curves.

So I tried on the 6 again at which point a little toddler appeared beside me, inspecting me closely. Toddlers don’t often know what to make of me and when I say “Hello”, they either just carry on staring or run back to their parents. This little one was different.

“Hello,” he replied and giggled. He came closer, grabbed hold of me with his little fist and started chattering away. I listened closely, but couldn’t make out a word he was saying. His Mum, who was standing a few feet away, came closer and listened and told me that he was telling me about his toys. A couple more words came out and his Mum translated, “Buzz Lightyear”.

The boy went back to his parents and I admired my delightful form in the mirror from a few more angles. My new friend had started to run about and I heard his Mum say, “Harvey, please don’t run off.” After a few more checks that the size 6 jacket was right, I squatted down to put it back on the hanger. At this point Harvey ran around the back of the rail of clothes behind me and shouted “Boo!” as he arrived next to me. I screamed appropriately, saying “Oh, Harvey’s so scary!” So cute as well.

3. Let’s just call him The Artful Dodger

Walking along with Suzy, minding my own business, a young blonde-haired boy suddenly stepped out in front of me and asked, with what can only be called some small degree of exuberance, “Excuse me, do you have the time?!” His Kentish accent, cheerful face and enthusiastic demeanour threw me completely and I was suddenly convinced that I was being pickpocketed by an extra from Oliver Twist. The cogs in my head were whirring, thinking, “no, don’t pull out your mobile, he’ll steal it! He’ll push you to the ground! The gang of street urchins I know to be behind me will distract Suzy and nobody will help us!” I pulled up my sleeve to show him my bare wrist, and said, “No, sorry!” and he laughed and let me walk on. A few steps further and Suzy and I were laughing about this as I frantically patted my person trying to account for all my possessions.

4. Mrs Woman

In New Look I waited outside Suzy’s changing room cubicle as she tried on a bikini. There was nowhere to sit, so I squatted on the floor, whispering sweet nothings to my poor legs and feet. A mother and her teenage daughter came in and on discovering that there was no stool in the cubicle, Mrs Woman said she would come and sit on the floor with me. We talked a little and she asked me if I had a daughter in one of the cubicles. She hadn’t seen Suzy, so she hadn’t gone completely mad in the head with regards to overestimating my age, but I must be one of the few people around who is delighted to get that sort of question. We also discussed the law that ensures a mother and daughter shopping trip involves hours in shops that the daughter wants to visit and no time at all in any shop the mother might be interested in.

5. The Comeuppance Girls

I’d had a pretty stare-free trip. I’d glared at a few people, laughed inwardly at the woman who had to pretend she didn’t see me when she turned round to see what it was her daughter was wanting her to look at, seen Suzy sending death rays at some others and stood directly behind her to fox one kid’s efforts to gawp. However, there were the Harveys, Artful Dodgers and Mrs Women of the world who more than made up for those people. The following story didn’t need either of those three though as it contains its very own hero.

Walking through John Lewis on our way back to the car, I was ahead of Suzy. She’d probably stopped to smell something. I heard a clatter of young girls’ shoes behind me that suddenly stopped and was accompanied by overloud laughing and a lot of “oh my! Oh my God!” I turned on my heel and walked back, glared at them and joined Suzy who was now just one step behind the girls. The bigger of the two had clapped her hand over the younger one’s mouth and they ran off and turned the corner towards the exit. Meanwhile, Suzy was sending her well-honed death rays towards them over the top of the display units.

We turned the same corner towards the exit just in time to see the girls’ mother begin severely reprimanding them for their behaviour. One got a shove to make her turn around and was told - at a volume for my benefit - that you do not stare at people. They went through the door and we saw them get smacked as the scolding continued. As we then came through the door moments later, they were going down the stairwell to the left, being told loudly that they were incredibly rude and a total embarrassment. Once in the lift (we don’t do stairs) we cheered the woman’s fervent lambasting of her children. It had been quite a treat to behold.

I realised I haven’t shown you what I’ve been knitting recently. Go on, guess what I’ve been making…

No, really, guess!

That’s right! Weird hats!

What gave it away? The enormous picture perhaps?

These are the latest makes from my needles - of which I now have a full set thanks to Ebay. From the top is a scarf (what would you do without me to explain?) from more Wendy Unique wool. Not as fluffy as the other colours, though I know not why.

Then there’s the weird gaiter thing I started in 3 different colours that made me think of ice cream. But I got this far through it, realised that it wasn’t really anything and that the pink was going to run out soon and decided to rip it apart. Mum, Dad and I had great fun winding up the wool again. Fortunately we were without small children or pets, who would no doubt have thrown their own sticky or furry spanners into our efficient works.

Down one and you’ve got another of those toddler hats I keep making, fiddling with the pattern each time and never quite getting what I want. The main body is stocking stitch with a white strand as well as the blue multi on the brim, which made it nice and thick and windproof.

Then, ta-da! Dulaan hats made from a Dulaan-recommended pattern. Only, Mum and I didn’t use circular needles, because we don’t have any that size. My first hat is the bright red one in the middle - made with the 48 stitches the pattern decrees. Mum’s two hats either side of mine were made with 72 and I’ve since made another red hat with 60 stitches at cast-on. The 48 doesn’t quite fit on my noggin, but the 60 does, no problem. If you’re good boys and girls I shall take a photo of it. Perhaps even on my head. If you’re good.

Oh yeah, and I’ve got some kind of knitting-related RSI in my left shoulder/elbow/arm area. These Mongolians had better be grateful.

As I left Lauren’s house yesterday, she let me know that she expected a full blog report by the end of the weekend. Since she feeds me delicious goat’s cheese from Marks & Spencer’s, it’s in my interest to obey.

So yeah, I went to Lauren’s new house yesterday. She and Dave had recently moved from their flat to a townhouse and I needed to see if I approved. I caught the train up to Bromley South and Lauren met me at the station. We caught the bus and rode through the town in the front row of the top deck. Don’t tell me I don’t know how to have fun.

It was then just a short walk to Lauren’s new abode. I don’t usually approve of townhouses (*townhouse owners across the country sigh and put their homes up for sale*) as I’m not a fan of that many flights of stairs and I have a hard time remembering which floor I’m on. However, the entrance to Lauren’s house is on the middle floor, meaning that you come into the area you use most during the day: the living room. Kitchen downstairs, bedroom upstairs. Much better than arriving in the kitchen and having to go upstairs the moment you’re inside.

There’s a beautifully enormous window in the living room with a great view across town, across to Shortlands station, but, most importantly, across the neighbouring gardens. We saw an old woman very slowly gathering her smalls from the washing line in her garden. So slowly I felt like opening the window and heckling her, but I feared our cover would consequently be blown. I left before night fell, but I imagine the view of night life and lights must be great.

The big window also means that the living room is a great sun trap and it just so happens that there are two comfy sofas in the there. Just right for lounging on. So we did. For ages. Hell, we even fell asleep for a while.

Eventually, we heaved ourselves off the sofas and went downstairs to the kitchen, where Lauren prepared us a delicious lunch of bruschetta and goat’s cheese and tomato and onion. She worked and I documented her working. She makes a mean lunch does our Lauren.

And then we were pretty worn out after our lunch, so we rested some more. Dave implored us to do something as we didn’t see each other very often. However, he missed the fact that we were already doing something: resting. Anyway, I took some photos and Lauren turned round at one point, what more does he want from us? Jeez.

Late afternoon I called Mum to organise picking me up. She said she’d ring back when she’d had a cup of coffee. So I returned to resting and after a long time, when the only conclusion to be reached was abandonment, I rang her again. She and Dad set off a little later, finding Lauren’s place with no trouble thanks to Dad’s passion for his Route 66 program. They carried out their own inspection of the property, declared it a-ok and we went on our way.

I shall return. Especially if there’s going to be goat’s cheese.