Like most addicts I have become accustomed to smuggling stuff into my own house. In the old days it was bottles of Scotch or wine. More recently it has been a couple of hundred quid’s worth of CDs after a binge in HMV.
The trouble with CDs is that they take up so much space. Wandering round Cargo in Wimbledon the other Saturday I noticed a splendid chest of drawers for a mere £40 that would offer safe and stylish storage for some 400 discs. It was the work of a moment to snap it up and put it in the car. It was only when I arrived home that I realised the flaw in my plan. Fine to have this new unit to stash my illicit purchases, probably just about possible to get it upstairs without Mrs S noticing — she was in fact playing her cello, a new passion that gives her great pleasure but which in these early stages is causing serious suffering to her husband and son.
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