I want, I want, I want…

This weekend, I.  Westfield Shopping Centre, ten minutes from Paddington, with a rather delicious companion named crowds of shoppers and designer stores, I managed to do a lot of my shopping.   Spent the day can't Get the Day queuing among other commoners, preferring to "add to cart" on Amazon.

So there we were, fingers entwined, our arms full of branded carrier bags. Victor had dragged me into practically every man’s clothes shop (who says men aren't fussy?), and I was thinking longingly of Kurt Geiger up on level one. I desperately wanted to slip my foot into the multi-coloured glitter stilettos that had been whispering lovingly to me from the website. As he tried on his fiftieth jumper, I was mentally itemising my wardrobe to justify £150 while subtracting the balance of my MasterCard from my credit limit.

Sensitive to others' needs, I am adept at situations before they get out of control, and Victo gets frustrated when diffusing a r. I wanted my shoes, and he wanted a change of scenery, so I suggested Pret a manger, which was "coincidentally" on level one. Smelling the lure of coffee and fresh sandwiches, Victor offered me a smile as we ascended the escalator; I calculated that it would take 30 seconds to pass my beautiful shoes once we were nourished.

A man with a full belly is a happy man - and a man open to bribery. Near the cafe was a huge Apple store with plenty of shiny laptops and iPads murmuring sweet nothings. Attention diverted from Fair Isle knitwear, Victor swung his hips through the door and took a lungful of Broadband. A London agency escort such as me must have patience as a virtue: the patience to accept her needs comes after those of her date. I watched Victor dribble over a MacBook Pro and counted down the minutes until I could lick the heel of that display shoe.

And then... a boom! Victor kissed my forehead and said, you have been so patient with me today. Let me buy a present for my beautiful girl. Shall we look at something for you?" I could have jumped for joy. "Oh, you don't have to do that..." I said through my lashes. He made a pooh-pooh noise, and we fell into step... right past Kurt Geiger. And there they were... in the window, dazzling under the lights as I knew they would be... my shoes. Ten minutes later, I had a shiny gift bag dangling from my arm, and my date looked very pleased with himself as I let him "choose" a pair, though I can't say product placement didn't play a part.
 

You can't say that my gentleman friend wasn't happy to make me happy. The date had, as always, been about him and a trip to W12. I'm a big fan of West London, especially now I know where Kurt Geiger has a fantastic store!