The joys of home and hearth and hot lemon

Over Christmas and New Year I was rotten with flu and didn’t go out once. I stayed soberly at home beside the fire with the family and enjoyed every minute. The first time I ventured out, still feeling ropy, was on Saturday morning for a look around the shops. As I came out of Superdrug, I met Sasha. She was wrapped up warmly against the cold, except for her bosoms, which were recklessly exposed and showcased by a black, lacy push ’em up and point ’em out bra. We hadn’t seen each other for months and we warmly embraced. ‘Drink?’ I said. ‘Ship?’ Sasha had lost her purse again, she said, and was retracing her steps in the high street; but yes, marvellous, sauvignon blanc, dry, large one. So she went off to find her purse and I toddled the 50 yards down the road to the Ship and ordered a stiff Bombay and Fever Tree for me and a large sauvignon blanc for her, receiving 50 pence change from a 20 pound note.