Sometimes, whilst schlepping home on the tube, I drift into daydream and fantasise of a life more perfect. A life in which, relievedly, I’m not rattling around the underworld of our ‘Great Wen’ with my nose pressed into the armpit of a middle-aged banker.
It plays something like this…
Reality: Walk. Bird craps on me.
Daydream: The Ledbury.
Reality: M&S ready meal. Two days out-of-date.
Daydream: Julia Restoin-Roitfeld. BFF.
Reality: Kevin from Accounts.
Daydream: Reed Krakoff. Pre-fall 2012.
Reality: Primark’s ugly sister, Peacock.
As the tannoy confirms our arrival into Victoria station, I’ll return – to the gaze of the banker, surveying me in much the way a wolf would rib-eye steak – and realise that, actually, Reed Krakoff would be wasted on a crowd like this.
Tell me, do you have a daydream life?