I had one of those morning when I suddenly realised that my mother’s birthday is tomorrow, so I had to make a detour from work to the card shop. My mum likes those cards with extra pages glued in with a suitably heartfelt verse on each page, and, optionally, a watercolour of a nice cottage on the front. I managed to tick all these boxes and took the card to the till.
‘Five pounds ninety-five please!’
‘Five pounds ninety five!’
It’s an outrage. I know we are in an economic downturn, but inflation with respect to mothers’ birthday cards has spiralled out of control.