ON Saturday Mrs H returned from a trip into town with a distinct spring in her step and a rather alarming twinkle in her eye.
What should have been a brief outing, to return some library books and buy groceries for the weekend, had somehow lasted the best part of half a day.
Apparently she had been delayed, following excitement outside BHS after a throng of young men had gathered, wearing little more than bow ties, some tight-fitting trousers and not much else.
Rarely has the good lady arrived home in such high spirits and, as I'm told this display was in aid of charity, let us therefore raise a glass to the British Heart Foundation.
Of course it's not just the youngsters who are capable of helping good causes in rather novel ways. Indeed, if you happen to see a slightly older gentleman doing the Full Monty next to the Millennium Clock in the next few weeks, please give kindly.
Milk and no sugar please. Ordering a cup of tea in Tunbridge Wells should be a relatively simple task but like almost everything in modern life, this age-old pleasure is now fast becoming a confusing and complicated chore.
Ask for a cuppa in any coffee shop nowadays and expect to be met with a look of bewilderment, nay contempt, followed by much finger pointing to a blackboard which advertises bizarre concoctions such as elderflower, lilac, or a ruddy chai latte.
And the confusion doesn't end there. Just this week a good friend of mine was no less perplexed following lunch at a cafe in The Pantiles. Here he was recommended to drink English Breakfast Tea and this was at three o'clock in the afternoon.