A week ago, I did a spur-of-the-moment thing: I booked a ticket to attend a talk with Jeffery Deaver that very night. Usually I um and er about outings, particularly if they're to happen the same day. I consider the price. I consider the traffic. I consider, very considerately, my family abandoned to cook dinner for themselves as I swan out to hobnob with bestselling authors.
But abandon and hobnob I did. I had cocktail snacks. I drank a martini and a glass of bubbly. I listened to Jeffery, talked to the media and bought Carte Blanche.
Better than cooking dinner? You bet!