This morning he woke up and realized that he had forgotten his wife's birthday. Paule makes such a big fuss over occasions. He pretended to be asleep, as she got ready to go out to her cleaning job. He waited until he heard the door close and then got up, ill with the earliness, did his morning chores, and nipped out of the house.
He went to the concourse at Waterloo Station to buy some chocolates. The confectioner's was closed. Then he thought: I'll buy her a CD single for a card and say I'm getting tickets for a show. But Our Price was closed as well. In a panic he headed across the river, to Charing Cross. He had a coffee until W H Smith opened. Saw nothing she might like. Bought Now That's What I Call Music 30 .
Which means he'll have to get out at Waterloo, or they'll see him. He'll have to run all the way home and hope that Mary and Paule will stop to talk.
Happy birthday.