So shoot me. Somethings are just easier to 'fess up on the net.
Today Cloudy Neil and I went to town. Bit of pootely* shopping was in order (if only to stop me want to rewatch Doomsday again).
He was after some new trews. Check. Got them. And DVD-R's for him. Check. And new sunglasses (a lens fell out of the old ones). Thrice check. Then he started getting distracted by shirts. Hmm...
You remember what happened last time he wanted to buy a shirt. Well this time it was my fault entirely.
To give me credit it was Neil who picked up the shirt in Zara's and said how nice it was. It was. It was off-white with a nice outlined flowery pattern. Not at all city brokery style (which covered most other things available. And being Zara's it wasn't going to break the bank).
The problem was I just could not help but have in my mind's eye THIS shirt, so the scenes of Neil hunting for this shirt in his size not only had me publicly grinning and affirming his taste but also had me biting my lip in agony every time he turned away.
I mean, really, it's just wrong (please don't all rush at once to agree, I know, I know...)
Thankfully, I think, in the end the only one that remotely fitted wasn't pefect and as he often does he ducked out of the purchase at the last minute. Either that or he saw my glinting eyes and thought better of it...
Mind, it never stopped him buying his blue and pineapple patterned shirt. And trust me, there was a definite wryness to my expression when he decided on that gem.
* come on - you know what pootling is?