I stand around in Marks & Spencers food department, which has undergone a remodelling since I was last there, everything is either black or stainless matching todays kitchens that no one ever cooks anything in.
We are here to take delivery of a collection of chocolate tarts which haven't turned up, supposedly for the grand BBQ, the cost of which has risen to a height comparable with K2.
Idly I watch a youngish affluent looking couple, she picks up various oven-ready meals paying close attention to the labels, turning periodically to put her selection into the trolley.
This is pushed along by the man a few paces behind. He seems to play little part in the eventual choices but has a pocket calculator in one hand and appears to be keeping a tally, Why?
M & S surely isn't the place for the commited penny pincher?
Maybe they follow a very strict regime where he lays down the law, one of the rulings being: 'My Wife is allowed to spend no more than precisely £13.50 on M&S convenience food every third thursday of the month.'
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