Half measures

"Have a glass of wine and tell me which bedroom design firm I should go with," says Vicky. "What would you like to drink?"

"Anything as long it's cold and you fish out the sawdust first. You don't think you're getting a bit design obsessed?"

"Of course not. Now listen to this one. "'When we come to create your dream bedroom, closet or home office, we don't start with a tape measure. We start with a cup of tea and a ginger biscuit.'"

We look at each other.

"Is that a boast or a warning? Do you think they've had complaints from customers refusing to let them across the threshhold until they show that they're fully trained to handle asbestos and shortbread selections? And what have they got against tape measures? I mean, have you ever tried to measure a bedroom with a ginger biscuit, let alone a cup of tea?" asks Vicky.

"No," I say, laughing derisively. "Far too soggy. Just the same with Gypsy Creams. Everyone knows that when precision's required, nothing beats flapjacks. Given that they set rock hard you can mark them out in centimetres - though the syrup does tend to absorb the ink after a while. And I'm told that if you weld a couple together, you can even improvise a mitre block. Believe me, Vicky,all the best bedroom designers use them. This lot are clearly massively behind the times when it comes to tool kit biscuit ware. I wouldn't touch them with a bargepole."

"I think you're right," says Vicky, shutting the catalogue with a snap and picking up the next.

"This one sounds more like it. 'We'll talk about what you love, what you hate and what your innermost dreams are for your most personal space.'" She pales and double checks the cover.

"Bloody hell," she says. "You know, for a moment there, I thought I'd got hold of Lindy's list of New Year's resolutions."