It was simply a glorious weekend here in London. The thermometer nudged 23 degrees and the sun shone like the world was new. Throughout the capital people emerged blinking into the sunshine and spent Saturday simply strolling and enjoying the warmth on their pale English skin.
We, on the other hand, bought a sofa.
It's a very nice sofa, don't get me wrong, and it will look the dog's bollocks (as opposed to the cow's back, which is what it's actually made of and is equally as unpleasant if thought about too much) when it's in place, I just think on a day like Saturday we could've thought of a hundred other things to do.
But it was a necessary job and it was over with in a couple of hours. If nothing else, the glorious weather meant that the retail park, which contained the mighty triumverate of Ikea, DFS and World of Leather, was relatively empty and horrific images I'd had of fighting through crowds of Croydon chavas was unwarranted.
Strangely though, while wandering between DFS and, I think, the Sofa Workshop, I stopped at the crossing to check for traffic and a tiny pony pulling a tiny cart containing three small boys trotted past. Bearing in mind that this was in a retail park inbetween Croydon and Wimbledon and you can imagine my sudden confusion. Not only was it a peculiar sight to see in the middle of such an industrial area, but if their parents had sent them to pick up a sofa they were severely underestimating the capacity of their cart and the strength of their pony.
