I was wandering round B&Q, more in anxiety than aspiration.
We had just visited my favourite store, Staples.
All those pens, laminators, files, printers, trays and items of stationery I never knew I needed until I saw them.
My wife was with me because my back is still in the early stages of recovery and I cannot lift anything heavy: a debility I shall endeavour to fake for as long as possible.
And five reams of paper are very heavy, let me tell you. She put them in the back of the car – 2,500 sheets, which should be enough to be going on with – and heaved a sigh of relief.
Like a fool, I asked if she needed anything from B&Q opposite. The offer was made in guilt and compensation at using her as a labourer. I didn’t expect her to say: “I could do with some mop heads.”
Mopheads, I knew, could lead to anything.
We trailed the store unsuccessfully searching for mop heads and, on the way, found other items that sparked her interest.
“We could do with a new oven,” she said.
See? You start with mop heads and leap to a new oven! Where would it end?
She lingered and ran her hand sensuously across a ceramic hob.
“While I’m here,” I said, in a desperate attempt to distract her. “I’ll check the price of stone chippings.”
Off I scurried but, by the time I had got to the doors that led to the garden section, she was nowhere in sight: she had embarked on her own journey of exploration.
Outside it was raining and I never did find the chippings, not that I really wanted to.
By the time I returned she had a project list in her head.
A new oven would mean decorating the kitchen and she had chosen the paint.
Our daughter and son-in-law, who have been living with us for a year, move out in two weeks and my wife had been assessing a few extras to brighten up our grand-daughter’s new bedroom.
Where would it end?
And then I saw the grass for sale.
Not seeds to grow your own, or turf with soil still attached. But rolls of artificial grass in many different types: Padstow, low density; Marlow, medium; Blooma, Regency, Buckingham, Midhurst, Banbury, Oakham and Newhaven Super Heavy Density Luxury. They even had Eton, so you could boast: “Just like those famous playing fields of Eton, you know.”
Which would you leave you open to the query: “Oh aye? Cleck or Kirk?”
The B&Q summer brochure says: “Artificial grass gives you the fresh crisp look of a newly laid lawn all year round, without any of the fuss of maintaining one.”
The grass was the perfect diversion. “Remember when you wanted to lay artificial turf in the living room?” I said.
“It looked all right in the downstair’s loo,” she said.
Maria had, many years ago, once carpeted the downstairs lavatory, which is windowless and under the stairs, with fake grass and added a white plastic picket fence around the skirting board. She has an innovative mind.
One of our daughter’s boyfriends freaked out when he answered a call of nature.
“It’s like a grave, man,” he said, eyes wide.
I must admit the toilet itself did look a little like a monumental tombstone to a Victorian sanitary engineer.
Banter was maintained as I led her to the exit with the promise of lunch in Dunelm Mill (I know how to treat a girl).
Phew, I thought. That was close but I think I got away with it.
Of course, I hadn’t.
“I definitely want a ceramic hob,” she said, “and I’m thinking of white satin for the walls and there were some cute cushions for Jeannie’s bedroom.”
What happened to the mop heads?
