Love at First Sight

 

I wasn’t expecting it.  In fact, I’d be hoping against hope that it wouldn’t happen.  But today, once again, I got into trouble for falling in love without warning.

It’s all my mother’s fault.  She has decided, out of the blue, that she’s fed up buying frying pans.  She tells me that she’s sick of burning the arse out of the ones she’s been using to date, and she’s decided that if she goes with the quality stuff, it might be a bit slower to lose its mojo.

So, since she was in our house for the weekend, she wondered today whether we should make our way to Kildare Village, so she could go to the Le Creuset outlet, and think about spending more on a frying pan than she did on her first cooker.

I was worried.  I’m familiar with Kildare Village.  And the Le Creuset shop is directly beside the Radley shop.  Radley is a British brand that makes lovely leather handbags.  I’m very fond of them and have been known to buy them quite frequently.  Even though I can’t afford them, don’t need them, and will never get full value out of them.

I voiced my concerns to my mother.  She is aware of my weaknesses, and didn’t argue with me.  We agreed that we would avert our eyes from the Radley shop, pretend it had closed down or something, concentrate on frying pans, and not look left or right on our way into the shop.

And that’s what we did.  I didn’t even sneak a look at the window display on my way in.  I was a warrior.

The trouble started when my Mam couldn’t choose a frying pan.  They had a crazy range, different sizes and depths, and made of different materials, and what have you.  I’d love to say I was fascinated, but I wasn’t, in truth.  I did my best to be interested, but there isn’t much you can pretend to like in a kitchen shop, when you never cook.

My mother knew this, and I think she had mischief on her mind. 

Also, an expenditure of the type she was undertaking takes some consideration.  You wouldn’t like to buy the wrong pan, and then discover you needed one with a lid, or it wasn’t deep enough to cook a stir fry in, and that you needed to buy another one.

She was almost sure which one she wanted.  We decided, however, that she should think about it for a few minutes before doing the deed.

We wandered out of the shop, promising to return.  The woman in there couldn’t have made it more obvious that she didn’t believe us, and insisted we take a catalogue setting out all their products with us.

We paused outside the door.  We looked at each other, and started to slowly turn right.  That was our mistake.
I asked my mother where she thought we might think about her frying pan.

“I don’t know” she said “we could just wander around.”

By the time she had the words out of her mouth, we were stepping over the doorstep into the Radley shop.

And that’s when I fell in love.  It was sitting there, on an eye level shelf, waiting for me.  I think it might have actually been waiting for me.  It looked as if it should fling itself off the shelf and straight onto my shoulder.

I actually caught my breath, and grabbed my mother by the arm.  The same thing has happened to her, in the same shop, so she knew exactly what was going on. 

“Should we go somewhere else?”

“I can’t.  Not yet.”

The shop assistant smiled at me.  She had probably hoped it was a friendly and welcoming smile, but she looked like a shark staring at his dinner.

“Nice to see someone falling in love at the door.”

I closed my ears to her.  I wouldn’t be tempted.  It looked expensive, even by Radley standards.  And the television licence and ESB bills are almost pulsating with impatience on the phone table.  Not to mention the household charge from last year, which we have yet to register for.

I just stood looking at it.

It’s black, made of butter soft leather and slouchy and casual in shape.  It has two short handles as well as a long shoulder strap.

It’s perfect for me.  It can easily hold all my bits and pieces including my kindle, and a couple of notebooks in case the plot for the Great Irish novel hits me while I’m in the queue in Boots.

“How much is it?” my mother asked.

I was actually stroking it.  I took a deep breath, and drew the price tag toward me.  For the second time in minutes, my stomach flipped.

I’ve often spent far too much on a bag without really thinking about it.  But never this much.  Even I, in my most foolish moments, would draw back from a handbag at this price.

If only I hadn’t loved it.  My beloved mother offered to lend me the money, but I couldn’t bring myself to accept, not for a handbag.

I have to admit, I was pretty sad to leave it. 

That happens to me sometimes. I see something and I want it so much I’m willing to sell my soul for it.  Usually handbags, or shoes.  Sometimes a lovely notebook.  But no notebook I’ve ever seen is so expensive that there’s absolutely no way I can swing it.

 I turned to my Mam

“Quick, let’s go back and get your pan, before my heart breaks.”

We trotted back next door, where the frying pan, the sole purpose of our journey, was bought and paid for.  There was one a draws for customers going on, you know the type, give them your email address, and you might win a €100 voucher.  I must have been wearing my utterly miserable face, but as well as giving my Mam a form for it, the assistant offered me one. 

For a second, I had a shiver of excitement.  Maybe it was a voucher for Kildare Village in general, and I’d win, and the handbag would become possible.  But no, the voucher was only for the kitchen shop.  A casserole dish wouldn’t be much consolation, I felt, so I didn’t even bother.

When we got outside I insisted that we have a sit down on a bench.  Still outside the Radley shop.

There’s no easy way to say this.  I bought the bag.  On the credit card. 

I’m begging now, but NOBODY can tell His Nibs, he will go absolutely bananas. 

Obviously I’m overcome with guilt and shame.

But I love the bag.  Which makes the guilt and shame difficult to maintain.

I’ll be sleeping with it right beside my bed tonight.  So I can pet it during the night. 

Feck it, I might even bring it into the bed with me, if His Nibs is sound asleep.