It should be noted that Mrs. jb occasionally shows a modicum of fiscal responsibility (which makes a change) and has yet to buy any of Trelise’s kit at full whack.

(This would involve mortgaging the house, as far as I’ve worked out)

So we’re in New Zealand at the end of summer and lurking around Trelis’s place in Newmarket in search of A BARGAIN.

(As Bill Leslie would say “Reduced from the outrageous to the merely ridiculous…”)

“Sorry” said the flossy wearing a cotton raincoat over a miniskirt, a cardigan that had obviously shrunk in the wash and purple cotton socks in white high-heeled sandals

“We haven’t got much left. You could always try the Quay Street store. They’re sure to have a couple of wrecks down there”

I kept quiet on that one.

A couple of wrecks? I know they have more senior staff down there, but it’s not a Very Nice Thing to say about the chronologically gifted, is it?

So off we toddle, I have a look around for about 30 seconds before I’m instructed to go somewhere else for an hour and not get into any trouble.

Meet at the appointed time, Mrs jb loaded down with expensive looking bags (SHOCK.HORROR) and I say:

“Well, she certainly was right back in Newmarket, wasn’t she?”

Blank look.

“About those geriatrics running the place. “Wreck” doesn’t even START to describe them”

“”Wreck”. Who’s talking about “wrecks”? She said there’d be some SALES RACKS here. You do come up with some stupid ideas at times…”

Good thing I kept quiet….