Fingerless leather driving gloves

Hi there chaps and chapesses,

Does anybody else have those moments where you're about to buy something, and then just before you decide against it, a little voice pops into your head and whispers "Go on - treat yourself".

I like to call them TYS moments. TYS: Treat Yourself. I usually find that only minutes after I hear those words in my head, I'm at the checkout completing the sale.

Take yesterday, for example. I was killing some time after work in my local Debenhams, when I spied a rather natty pair of fingerless leather driving gloves. Now, I have to admit to already having a pair. I find that not only do they make me look the business, they are also scientifically proven to improve manual traction and thus reduce the chance of accidents caused by steering wheel slippage.

But my pair at home were of a slightly faded tan colour, whereas these were a handsome black. "Don't be stupid," I thought to myself. "You don't need two pairs of driving gloves. I mean who sees you driving the car?"

"You do," I answered myself firmly and confidently. I picked up the gloves and checked out the quality of the leather. A lesser brand might perish slightly with time (especially the amount I drive!), but you can always trust Debenhams. And that's when the "TYS" gremlin kicked into action. I always enjoy the innocently naughty feeling it gives me to purchase something I don't really need. And I can't help feeling slightly cocky when I hand over my Visa credit card to the cashier and punch my digits into the old chip and pin.

Anyway, within a matter of moments, I was back in the Mondeo, gloves akimbo, gently pressing down on the accelerator and slipping into fifth, as Mark Knopfler provided the ideal soundtrack : Money For Nothing.

Cleaning lady gripe

Here's a question: what's the deal with cleaning ladies? I know it's their job to clean and all, but do they really have to interfere with our personal space so much? Is it not enough to simply clean an area that's vacant?

Apparently not. Take this morning, for example. I was in the office, catching up on a bit of work. I like having the place to myself - the peace and quiet really helps me to concentrate. I mean, I'm all in favour of a bit of office chit-chat here and there, but if it's not Julie talking about the latest celebrity goss, it's some temp bothering me with silly questions, or that guy from sales whose name I don't even know talking about the game last night (brown nosing for a promotion, no doubt).

So I was sat at my PC - fixing other people's mistakes as usual - when the cleaning lady started dusting my desk!!! Can you imagine? A room full of desks to dust, and she decides to start on mine. I soon found myself craning my neck to look at my own bloody screen! And there she was, oblivious to the disturbance she was causing to an honest man earning his daily crust.

Maybe it's simple jealousy. I mean, you only need to look at her to see she doesn't earn a packet. Probably lives in squalour. And the only way she can get her kicks is by interfering with a man who doesn't have to think twice before buying his kids a new pair of trainers.

Anyway, I wasn't going to let it pass, so I caught her attention and asked her what the bloody hell she thought she was doing. "What does it look like I'm doing?", she had the impertinence to reply. I said, "It looks like you're getting in my way," and she went off in a huff to go and smoke.

I saw her later and took her aside to inform her that I could get her fired if I wanted to. Obviously, I'm not going to - but I could. And if it teaches her to let people have their own personal space, then that's no bad thing by my reckoning. No bad thing at all.

My recent shopping expedition to Crawley

I woke up the other day with a powerful desire to consume products. So, after a quick bowl of Kelloggs All-Bran, I got in the Mondeo and made my way down the A23 to County Mall Crawley. Upon arrival, I picked up a nice sky blue shirt from Topman, and a rather tasteful grey lambswool sweater from Marks and Sparks. After consuming a medium Americano, I popped into Dixons to peruse the latest electrical commodities. And I have to say, I was rather impressed by their selection of HDTV home cinema products. Eventually, I decided to postpone this purchase until after I'd done some proper research. I tamed my hunger for merchandise with a new USB mass storage device (the old one was looking a bit shabby), and followed it up with a new pack of TDK CD-Rs. Top banana.

I strode out of that mall with a good four or five bags of brand new gear. And was Margaret happy for me? Was she heck! Apparently a man needs to ask his wife when he can spend his own money these days. Political correctness gone mad.

Anyway, I shrugged off her talk of domesticities and made my way to my study, where I promptly donned the new shirt, tucked it into my cream chinos and spent a good few minutes admiring the handsome man in the mirror. Mission accomplished.