The market stall holder clocked my sister and I looking, trying to work out what the hell he was selling.
"Toothbrush holders, in the shape of cuddly toys, come on love, one for a pound three for two. Aren't your kids worth a pound?"
"I don't have any kids."
"Leave us your address and I'll come round later and sort that out."
Gosh, I wonder what infertility cure he had in mind.
I didn't bother to tell him the husband and I had been trying that method relentlessly for the last three years.
Neither did I give him my address.