Daughter, dog and I arrived back in Brighton a few days ago, rested and relaxed after our trip to Mum's.
For me it meant back to housework. For daughter it meant she could go shopping again.
Shopping seems to have become daughter's favourite pastime recently and most weekends I am pestered to go along.
This means I get to spend my money on things for her rather than myself, although she does follow me round saying: "Go on treat yourself, I'll share it with you." Translated, this means: "Buy yourself that blue eyeshadow that I want." As the last time I wore blue eyeshadow was in the Seventies, the likelihood of me using anything so bright on my face again is minimal. However, I am usually persuaded into buying something I'll never use again but she will.
Daughter has also discovered the joys of going to lunch when shopping.
A mere McDonald's, however, is now longer good enough. She means proper lunch. So far we have had tried a number of exotic places. We even tried sushi. Why, I don't know, as daughter took one look at the raw fish and reverted to type, deciding to forgo a main course and ordered the chocolate dessert.
She has also decided coffee bars are where cool people hang out and we have to go to a proper coffee house selected by daughter as being appropriately fashionable. As I am no longer fashionable, this involves me collapsing into a chair, surrounded by her carrier bags, sporting cake crumbs and a moustache of cappuccino froth, while she sits opposite in her shades, sipping delicately at a hot chocolate, while she flicks through some trendy magazine.
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