A boy tried on two pairs of boots, one fitted well and the other was the colour his favourite player wears. He kept going back to the second pair even though his toes were cramped. I explained the fit properly, but all the way home I was thinking about a new pair I keep checking online, when my own boots are still fine. Apparently good advice is easiest when the money isn't yours. I can tell you the sole, the stitching, everything that matters, then one bright colour enters and suddenly I have reasons. Not buying them now. I have saved the picture though, which Bisi says is how the negotiation begins. She knows my methods too well.

My son wanted to be carried from the bus stop and I said he had legs. Then he put both hands up and somehow his legs became my problem. He is getting heavy, not enough to put him down immediately but enough that I kept changing sides, and each time he complained I was disturbing him. Important passenger. By our door my shirt was wet down the back and one arm felt much longer than the other. I was hungry too, properly hungry, and the smell from our kitchen nearly finished me. Sat down with water before eating and stretched my fingers. No pain, just that warm tired feeling after doing something physical. The passenger, meanwhile, was running round the room at full speed.

The owner's nephew came in late and was introduced to a supplier as the person handling our team. I was beside him holding the stock list I'd prepared. I smiled, even made a joke, but I was vexed. He isn't useless, that's the annoying part, I can't even say he knows nothing. Still, when a customer needs a difficult size or an order has gone missing, who do they call? Me. I wanted somebody to notice without my having to stand there advertising myself. Bisi said I should ask exactly what his role is. Sensible advice, but tonight I didn't want a sensible answer, I wanted her to agree that the whole thing was irritating. She did eventually. I may have told the story twice.