Thanks to a generous client, I had a windfall this week – a gloriously thick envelope of vouchers from the yellow-bag haven that is Selfridges.
My attention to his portfolio hadn’t gone unnoticed or perhaps it was the “wily women ways” that I’d shamelessly employed to develop it. There was a moment, though, when I feared I might have blown it as I pushed him off after he attempted a garlicky after-lunch embrace in the lift.
My euphoria at the thought of the pending shopping spree was short-lived, however, as I made the mistake of notifying my boss – as per company policy – about the “gift”. Sucking her teeth like Hannibal for chianti, she hissed, “fabulous, let’s shop”, and whipped the vouchers out of my hand.
In a flash we were cosied up in the back of a cab rac