Around a month ago, as part of a wider work avoidance project, I was googling myself (what? you don’t?) and came across a rather expensive designer bag which had, for all intents and purposes, the same name as me!

It was gorgeous and I coveted it greatly, but really was wavering as to whether I should lash out. Hideously expensive (and I do mean hideously) v A Bag With My Name! To give a sense of perspective to ny dilemma, my current (and most expensive one I’ve ever owned) handbag cost HEB¹ ÷ 10.

Cue much dithering.

I arrived home this afternoon to find an international courier box on the dining table. “What have you been buying yourself?”, I undulgently question my beloved, expecting some amazingly esoteric foodie device or unusual foodstuffs. “Nothing, it’s for you!”

You can guess what was inside.

No photo as too dark for decent shot.

What an absolute darling he is!

And little wonder we’re going all Austerity Measures.

¹HideouslyExpensiveBag

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