Lunchtime on Oxford Street is no place for a person like me. The tourists are out, hunting in packs of 20, stopping abruptly and meandering slowly in front of me. The schoolkids are on half-term and are cluttering up the place with their orange-glow Kilroy-Silk tans and cheap-looking jewellery.
I was there buying a birthday present for the Father, to whose house I will be going this weekend. Which will be yet more 'entertainment'. Still, at least I'll have the opportunity to bait VeganZealot sister about her soya-consumption-based destruction of the rainforests. That and try and fob off GobShite sister on Real sister (who will be trying to do just the same to me). I can hardly wait...
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