It's that Friday feeling...

Some people are itching to get pissed on Friday night. Some yearn for the TV or the gym. Others (not that I know such creatures from personal acquaintance, needless to say) are itching to circulate some of their hard-earned (how strange that sounds if you actually sort of mean it...) cash. Because I'm worth it and all the rest.

When I got out of the office at 6:30, I made a quick tour through shops that were still open. Turning on my heels at the changing rooms of Steffl when a friendly loudspeaker announcement thanked me for shopping (duh, if only!) at 7 sharp I had to make up for this shoppus interruptus (hate it!) by prowling down Graben, ploughing through the seasonal throngs of veiled tourists from the Gulf states.

I don't usually patronise the likes of Gerry Weber - bit too conservative and middle-aged for my taste - but this specimen was calling out to me:Buy me. Pleeeease buy me.

A cry for help I was only too happy to answer.