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We should yes be doing something rugged and hearty outdoors

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We should, yes, be doing something rugged and hearty outdoors. And that was the original plan, but then Ray's people phoned to say that they didn't want him doing anything outdoors, because he's got a tough publicity schedule and the forecast isn't good and they don't want him getting wet. Talking of which, Evans (on the mezzanine floor, opposite Hennes) does an excellent range. Mostly pink, floral and 100 per cent polyester, admittedly, but just the thing for all those Ann Widdecombe types, with busts like entire shelving units, and who just can't find anything to suit in Kooka?es, I know my Brent Cross.

And I'm rather glad I don't have to do anything rugged and hearty outdoors. I don't like the outdoors, with its hills and muddy bits and most unsatisfactory toilet arrangements. I accept that trees are quite nice things, but once you've seen one, well, it's hard to get excited all over again. "Look! Look! Another tree!" My partner says this is because I'm Jewish. He says he can't think of a single person among my family or Jewish friends who likes the outdoors I say this is absurd.

I say: "We're the race who spent 40 years in the desert, for heaven's sake." He says: "The miracle is that any of you ever spent 40 minutes away from Brent Cross." This is, of course, ridiculous. Although, that said, my mother says she wants to be buried at Brent Cross because it'll mean I'll visit her grave at least two, maybe three times a week. (Four, if I've bought something from M&S and decide to return it. Five, if I return it, then decide I really rather wanted it in the first place.)Whatever, if Ray is not on for teaching me how to survive in his world, then I'll teach him how to survive in mine.

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