Last night Ros asked me what I wanted for my birthday.
‘A tambourine,’ I answered. She has already established that I am not allowed to have one. ‘Except a tambourine,’ she said.

I searched my mind, realising I had forgotten the list of things I had wanted for my birthday. ‘A garlic crusher,’ I said, at a loss. Earlier that evening I had used two spoons to crush a clove of garlic.

‘A garlic crush.’ She was unimpressed.

‘Well I don’t know! Or a fruit juicer thingy.’ This was accompanied by the brandishing of a soapy wooden spoon. I was doing the washing up.

‘A citrus juicer,’ Ros corrected. She paused. ‘So a book,’ she said.

‘Okay.’

…But I still want a tambourine. One that has a drum on one side of it. Please may I have one?