Help the kind waiter with crooked teeth win a competition by buying My Good Friend Ashley a glass of Champagne £16.00 (total: £444.80p)

My Lovely Friend Ashley was leaving to return to Amsterdam, which was a shame for the lot of us as she was One of The Good Ones at work and I think we messed up a little bit, but... besides to the point, and anyway, and let's move on...

We had been meaning to go for a drink for a while, but not really a goodbye drink, we had hoped to get one of them in before. But time flew past, as it does, and we ended up toasting her travels on the 8th of August (I know, look how long it's taken me to post this toast), outside Villandry, which - incidentally - is the place I got stuck in on The Day of the Bombs. Ouch.

But it's a nice place, and there are lovely waiters, and several of them I am very fond of. One of these waiters has a crooked, charming smile. His teeth dance around the place and end up giving you this kooky tired grin, mainly because the boy works too damn hard serving people that forget to say 'please'.

On this day, he bashfully asked me if I would mind helping him out on something, and that he's 'pay me back'. He was in a competition at work where you had to sell glasses of elite, lovely champagne to the customers to win a trip to France to see how it was made. He was one glass away from winning.

So I brought Ashley one.

Firstly, I have never seen a girl so drunk, so instantly. And for me, a girl that hates champagne, I have never tasted anything so yum. These beautiful bubbles, however, went straight to her head, she was giggling and whooshing all over the place, heels falling off and apologetic texts to her friends she was late and lovely to meet. Leonie (the lovely, little cousin) and I, were dreadfully amused... As was The Charming Waiter.

He won by the way.
But he's been put in to too many shifts to actually be able to go over there so far.
Harumph.

He also tried to pay me back, and it went something like this:
I was out with Fantastic Amber and Kind Cat, drinking Rose.
He (Charming Waiter) came over and told me he'd brought our last 3 roses for us, which came to £13.00
I had, therefore, only spent £3.00 on him.
Please don't do that, I said, you don't need to.
Next, he brought us a bottle of the same champagne, saying it was on him, tucking £70.00 under the bucket, and just asking me to use that to pay him once he brought the bill.
Uh, Charming Waiter, now we're really in trouble.
I was now £67.00 pounds in his deficit.
Not what I was trying to do at all.
In the end, Fantastic Amber, Kind Cat and I brought the champagne, or at least, perhaps a client might have brought the champagne.
I also tipped him £20.00
Which, if anyone can do the maths... meant, well... that I had sorted it out.
Right?
I never was good at maths....

Gave a man sitting on Regent Street with no socks on £7.00 socks (total: £428.80p)

...And the reason why I stopped was... How can you leave anyone sitting on a cold street without any socks?

So I went on a sock mission, which you wouldn't think would be too hard on Regent Street, but that silly store with it's crap copy-writing French Connection didn't sell any (I spent about 7 minutes in there whilst the stupid staff faffed and argued and mused and did nothing other than base level behaviour), Paul Smith seemed a ridiculous way to spend money and the other stores were too busy selling stuff we didn't need. I ended up in Benetton, probably the first time I'd been in there since 1987, and found some socks quickly and without fuss. There was an ugly man in front of me buying himself lots of clothes he was too old, rude and ugly for and I thought 'I'm going to be here for ages, what if the man gets moved on?'. I asked politely, explaining I was buying socks for the homeless man, if I might go in front of him. And this ugly idiot gave me a look of disgust, like I'd ruined his whole day, like I was the worst thing to happen to him all week, like I ought to be shot at close range. Uh buddy... I think you're talking about you there.

I raised an eyebrow at him, (difficult since I'd just had a fringe cut in by my hairdresser and my eyebrows were effectively underneath) and said 'surely you can't mind? that would be hilarious' (in a, well-it-wouldn't-be-at-all way, as is my wont with using the word 'hilarious') and walked in front of him.

Of course, this lady faffed, her till gave up and I just handed the money over, asked for them to be popped in a bag and walked out the store.

The homeless man, with more manners than most and definitely more manners than the prick in the store, thanked me politely, almost giggling with delight, and put his socks on there and then.

I do wonder at us sometimes.

At least that man has warm feet, probably a warmer heart too.

As my father would say, you (ugly man in Benetton) need to buck your ideas up. And the rest...

Gave a man sitting on Regent Street with no socks on £1.33 from my pocket (total: £421.80p)

It's funny... As we skit scatter our way around town on a scratchy Saturday, spending our money on nonsense and nothing, we seem to think it's okay to hurtle, hurt our way past the bent body by Benetton, empty cup in hand, nothing on his filthy feet. I stopped to find some money for him in my pocket and was huffed at; 'look where you're going' I was told.

Idiots. The lot of us.

I gave the man all I had in pocket, which wasn't much because I'd just been robbed by Starbucks (actually, I hadn't, but I had watched someone rob them... nonchalantly walking in, picking up a bottle of water - healthy robber - and walking back out again... serves them right). When I dropped the money in his empty cup (come on people, empty - really? Too busy spending money on crap to pass on change?), he looked up and gave me one of those clean, I-never-meant-to-be-here gazes that make you feel like frippery and all the modern world means. I kept walking and stopped... More 'look where you're going's for me then...