Well, in the words of Haley Joel Osment, "I see dead people". Although in this case, it's the Asda delivery man. Just when I was beginning to think he didn't exist, a nice chap from Asda turned up at 8 o'clock last night with a trolley load of groceries. I didn't know whether to kiss him or punch him. My wife feels the same about me sometimes.
Lisa had phoned the store manager at lunchtime, who assured us the order would be arriving that evening, and promised us 50% off the bill. Which made me wish I'd ordered more. We haven't actually received that refund yet, so I'll believe it when I see it, but if it does materialise, then I suppose that's a reasonable end to the story. Asda haven't exactly inspired me with their ability to sort out a problem, and a half-price delivery doesn't quite make four days of frustration worthwhile, but it's enough to placate me for now.
To be honest though, we were lucky to get the order at all yesterday. I'd paid for it with my credit card this time, and with immaculate timing, I had a phone call from Barclaycard at 10am yesterday, to say they'd put a temporary stop on my card due to suspicious transactions. Apparently I lead such a dull, predictable life, that the moment I shop in three different towns, the fraud squad swing into action.
Personally I blame the kids. Amelie also likes to swing into action, but in her case it's with a Wii controller, so whilst in Haywards Heath last Wednesday, I bought her a couple of second-hand games. Unfortunately, I generally only use my credit card for paying bills, taxes and debts to society, so the moment Barclaycard spotted me having fun, they put my card on high alert. It meant that when I turned up in Hastings three days later and bought a pair of shoes, they knew there was something wrong. Clearly my card had been stolen by someone with too much leisure time and an impulsive love of footwear. It's a miracle they didn't arrest Lisa.
In reality, I'd spent my hard earned credit on these...
That's Toby standing on his own two feet in the Hastings branch of Clarks. After months of creeping and crawling, he's made great strides in the past few days, and is now spending a lot of time casually strolling around the flat as if he owns the place. So we thought it was about time he had a pair of shoes.
I think the standard of Clarks' photography has improved slightly since they snapped Lisa's cleavage four years ago. This time you can barely see my man boobs. Toby looks less like a zombie too. His sister had size 5H feet at this age, whereas he's only 4½G, so while she was an elephant, he's more of a pygmy hippo.
Unfortunately the one thing which hasn't improved over time is Clarks' prices. Frankly I think the main reason Barclaycard queried the purchase is because they couldn't believe anyone could spend that much in a shoe shop. Pound for pound, I think they're more expensive than gold.
So the result of all that is twofold: Toby will be wearing those shoes until he's three, and from now on, we're only shopping in Lidl.