Tom Browne

Arghhhhh.
Frantically searching through my suitcase of a bag (qu: what do I even keep in this blinkin’ thing?), I desperately struggled to remember where I had last put it. «There must be one in here», I cried, furiously digging deeper and deeper. Purse, check. Umbrella, check. Perfume, check. Bottle of extremely necessary water. Check. Even more extremely necessary makeup bag, check. Notebook, check. Pen… nowhere to be found.
Well, now what was I to do?! Penless and peeved at the fact I had forgotten to put one in that monstrosity of a bag, I logically considered my next action. And then it came to me. Tom Browne (should that read ‘he came to me’ then?), in all his newsagency glory.
Hallelujah.
I quickly dashed in, no time to lose on the pen front. I was already far too long without one. Looking around this languid store, my initial thought was «eeek…no pens!». Voicing this concern, I turned round to the little old shop assistant (bless her), and innocently inquired, «pens?». She turned round, and produced a pot of blue biros… at 35p each. Blinkin’ heck. Inflation, eh?
Well, my desperation knew no bounds, so 35p poorer and a pen up, I was once again a (relatively) happy bunny.
Thank you, Tom Browne.