Jilly's mother visited today, and this gave rise to a walk around the western end of the Oxford Street area during a vague middle region between mid-morning and work in the afternoon. Although the actual aim of the day (apart from the rather obvious goal of meeting my girlfriend's mother - achievement unlocked in that case) was to gorge on extremely unhealthy food at Ed's Easy Diner - achievement also unlocked, which is less than I can say for bowels - we also indulged in a little shopping.
At Ann Summers.
I know what you're thinking, teams. Taking your girlfriend's mother into Ann Summers - surely you don't do that until the second time she visits - but this was for a legitimate purpose; said girlfriend was shopping for a new bra, but she needed a sizing and fitting first: something that Ann Summers does (well, by all accounts). This led to a few awkward minutes wandering around the ground floor in an oversized blue coat and a backpack with two politely bemused Belgians, one of whom (her uncle) deciding to ask me what "BJ" stood for at a certain point.
I excused myself and zoomed downstairs to the baseme... sorry, "lower ground floor", which was much more interesting (although I was disappointed to find that they weren't selling soft porn; the guy in Harmony told me that they would, but they appear to have gotten harder in recent times). I casually browsed the toys and erotica until Jilly appeared on the stairs, clutching a bag containing two bras and matching knickers in sets of black and red and clearly wondering where I'd gone.
"This book's really good," I ejaculated without preamble, waving a copy of The Ann Summers Book of Red Hot & Rude Positions. "At least it's good for a sex position tutorial book. Looky here."
She lookied, the page I had open happening to be focused on the missionary position, albeit with a pillow placed under the lady's back to support her pelvis (we have to try that one - it looks comfy). Flicking through the book, I decided to take a punt and buy it, specifically since it was under a banner claiming that it was in the half-price sale. Turns out it wasn't in the half-price sale; that was just a banner announcing that such an event existed - but it was a whole penny less than the price on the inside of the dust jacket. Bargain.
Also, she bought it because I didn't have any loose cash on me.
And so we returned to the ground floor, having ascertained that the book was indeed inside the paper bag we had (since the first thing the cashier had offered us was a bag of air), happy and harmonious... as it should be.