If I have learnt one important thing from my sons, other than a long and oft repeated list of my short-comings, it is the need to haggle. Not over minor issues like bedtimes and pocket money, although it was here that they cut their expensively maintained teeth, but rather haggling in the souk sense. They couldn’t be any better at it if their father had been a camel seller.
Were they to have a motto for life, putting aside the constant refrain of ‘It’s not my fault’, it would have to be ‘Never. Pay. Retail.’.
I am not by nature one of life’s bargainers. My late husband once remarked that I was the only person he knew who could persuade someone to charge me more than they had intended – this followed an unhappy incident with a removal firm best left in the mists of time.
Imagine then my astonishment when Elder Son and I went into an Oxford Street emporium where he wanted to buy a London Underground T-shirt. No, I don’t know why.
With garment in hand he approached the assistant and flashed his Brad Pitt smile. ‘I want this T-shirt’ he said ‘and I’ll give you a fiver for it’. ‘Its £12’ responded the hapless girl, an antelope facing a hungry tiger. He nodded patiently. ‘I know it’s £12 to tourists but I’m not a tourist. I know it’s not worth £12, you know it’s not worth £12 and I’m going to give you a fiver. OK?’
And bugger me, it was!
On the same day we caught a bus, another first for me, and he explained to the conductor (Those were the days) in simple terms that he wouldn’t be paying the fare – and he didn’t. In an instant the man had grasped something that had eluded me in my dealings with Elder Son for many a year – no is simply not a option.
His brother is equally adept. The savings he made on a (fake) Prada bag and (also fake) Rolex watch in Barcelona virtually covered the cost of his flight. I am surprised that he is not actually banned from Portebello Road where stall holders have been known to take cover under their counters as he approaches. He once ‘persuaded’ the owner of a vintage clothes shop to reduce by half the price of a gown that had caught my eye. ‘Just consider yourself lucky his brother isn’t here’ I consoled the unfortunate vendor, ‘You’d be paying us to take it away’.
Although I’ve seen them in action many, many times the ability to do it myself proves sadly elusive. An unhappy aspect of my somewhat Luddite tendencies is that I am forced to buy a new printer whenever the old one runs out of ink and as a result I am on first name terms with the pasty youth at the local Comet. Last week, yet again in need of a replacement I, his bestest customer, attempted to get the price reduced.
He was not easily swayed and I had foolishly ventured out without my minders. Eventually, exasperated, I hauled out that old chestnut ‘Do I look as if I’m made of money?’.
And with a speed and smugness I wouldn’t have thought him capable if he replied ‘Yes, unfortunately Madam, you do’.

Tips for the week: don’t bother with ‘Verseilles’ – no costumes, no drama – or ‘Top Gear’ more like ‘Idling in neutral’ now it’s gone politically correct. Do see ‘The Nice Guys’ – a ridiculous funny romp.