On retail therapy

Hell hath no desire to buy power tools like a woman determined not to be dependent on people who don’t deserve it…


I just bought a drill.

Isn’t it pretty!

It’s not the exact model I really (really) wanted but it was available and much cheaper and close to where I live. It will do the job. I hope. If it doesn’t, I will get rid of it and move on.

With some of the money I didn’t spend on the posh drill, I bought a set of posh drill bits.

And a set of posh screwdriver bits.

And a posh box of screws.

And an assortment of posh rawl plugs.

And a posh spirit level.

And a posh(ish) bluetooth speaker.

And gave a beggar my last Jammy Dodger* and 51ct.

If I’d given him the theoretical change from the posh drill he wouldn’t have to beg for a while. As it was he only got the actual change in my purse. And a biscuit. Now that Brexit has been fully brexited it’ll be harder to keep the supply chain going, so I hope he appreciated it.


Time to head home now.

This might have been a slightly unorthodox retail therapy trip, but I think I’m now ready to change more than the way my house looks…

* English biscuits with jam in. They’re not really that exciting except that they taste of birthday parties and childhood and I love them.

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