Why I should never be let into Westfields on my own ...

There are many reasons to dislike Westfields: ugly buildings, temples to consumerism, crowds, bad food. But mostly I just dislike the fact that it seems to be able to make me do things I would never do in any other spatial dimension.

Admittedly today I was in a hurry. I had given myself 30 minutes - get in, get out - buy your Mary Janes, a pair of gloves, and a pair of tights to match the dress being worn to a black tie dinner tomorrow night (yeah, we're socialising at a fundraising gala - Hackney style).  All three purchases made and I'm heading for the door with a hot jalapeño and cheese pretzel in hand. But then, bastards, they put a lingerie shop near the exit with just the nicest looking tights in the window. 

'I'll grab those too just in case', I thought. And so I did. And another pair just in case. And then I handed over the plastic and punched in the numbers. Alas, too late,  I finally noticed the sum total flashed up on the screen. 

'How fecking much?! £100!! You have got to be kidding me!!!' I screamed in silence. Through the blur I vaguely recalled something being said about 'hand stitched' but I really should have been paying more attention.

Seriously! Who pays £100 for tights!?! Well .... me apparently. 

'They will make your outfit' said the shop assistant valiantly.

'For that price, love, I'd expect them to make me a cup of tea at the end of the night and give my feet a massage'. 

If those tights don't make it into the socialite pages of the Hackney Gazette I'm going to be well pissed off.