Saturday, 18 March 2006

pants

I have become the kind of woman who buys her pants in Wilkinson's.

Is this all there is?

It's crept up on me so slowly that I really haven't noticed what's been happening.

I love Wilkinson's.

I love the tea-towels; the large variety of different sized plastic boxes to go under the bed; the reasonably priced mug collection; and the fact that they sell bicarbonate of soda in boxes.

I like the fact that you can go in for a bottle of shampoo and come out with a fleecy cushion, a pot of paint, a curtain rail and a geranium.

A trip to Wilkinson's is like a trip to Ikea, without the guilt.

But PANTS.

How did this happen?

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