I was out at Dagfields yesterday with Evie and we were looking at an Edwardian tortoiseshell shaving set, and you'll never guess what she said. She said, "Nanny Pat, do you not find that this whole place just seems to be an absurdist microcosm of modern society? Does the futility of it all not overwhelm you? All these people engaged in a capitalist merry-go-round of exchange and barter, but to what ultimate end? I'm beginning to think that perhaps Sartre was right after all..."
She is funny. I just said to her, "Look, Evie, I've not got time to worry about capitalism now. This Moorcroft cheese dish needs wiping over and pricing up. Then why don't we get you a Mini Milk? Carol! Carol! If you're going over, will you get Evie a Mini Milk and I'll have a Mivvi? Take the money out of the cash I got for that Welsh elm console table. I can't possibly go myself. My symphisis pubis has pretty much disintegrated after Vaughn made me walk round that golf course in Dolgellau."