Dean and I are out in Leeds spending my money. This works out quite well for both of us: I get new summer things, Dean gets the reflective glow of persuading me to buy dresses even though I already have 26 [yes, I counted].
Early Learning Centre:
I wonder at the ball pool. Dean gets over excited and starts playing with a electric dinosaur. One of the shop assistants comes over to help and demonstrates how it moves on different surfaces. I assume she thinks that we have a baby.
Dean picks up a book that has glove puppet attached to it and starts talking with it in my face.
"The men are the worst aren't they?" Shop Assistant says to me.
"I know" I reply as Dean continues to play with the puppet "I think this is the bit where we need to leave".
I hand over my intended purchase.
"Are you sure you don't want to buy the book - to keep him entertained when you get home?"
Dean chooses this moment to hit the bubble making machine that is balanced on the counter. Bubbles go flying in all directions, clogging up the air.
Shop Assistant and I exchange looks.
"Dean - off to the naughty corner".
We are in the underwear department, something I will never again be able to do with a straight face due to a late night drunken conversation which is firmly in the - reasonably small - grouping of things that I have scruples enough not to blog. Plus the M&S underwear department, with its sheer vastness, scares me slightly. I operate on a targeted missions policy only, snatch and grabbing a multiway bra that proudly proclaims to be able to be worn in five different ways and is made entirely of something resembling elasticated foam. Undoubtedly, were I to let it, it would be able to detail WYP fire policy and write my novel for me too.
I am in the business of paying and as I have my 'No, I don't need a bag' bag Dean moves to pack the bra for me.
I'm concentrating on the tricky business of remembering the right four numbers in the right order -
"Corinne - it won't bend!"
I turn and look at the elasticated foam fueled, multiway bra (undoubtedly fluent in Japanese) now in Dean's hands. I try and keep a straight face as best I can.
"That's kind of the point".
The woman serving me laughs. Dean just looks at me. I do the only thing I can do - I smirk.
In order to not only fulfil my resolution that I would buy a new pair of jeans this year but to find something to wear underneath my new not-quite-dress-dress purchased ten minutes earlier in Primark I am looking a jeans. Black, straight legged, reasonably skinny ones that fill me and my thighs with something approaching terror. One of the shop assistants helpfully works out my waist size for me because I do not know it, especially in Topshop sizing which I am particularly dubious about. Jeans in hand I start to move towards the changing rooms.
"Do you want me to hold something?" Dean asks.
I had over my 'I don't need a bag' bag. And my dress bag. And my handbag. And my pashmina. And my coat.
Dean stands in the middle of the shop floor as he becomes a human coat stand.
Satisfied, I turn to go but I can't help a parting shot:
"You're such a good boyfriend".