Where would you go on a shopping spree?

We lived abroad for a few years and we discovered this very useful thing: if you have a Harrods account, you can get them to post things for you. Which means birthday and Christmas presents can be ordered, wrapped and posted, and charged to your account. Which works out cheaper than sending them from another country, plus they have a much better chance of arriving undamaged and in one piece.

Then we discovered that if you went there during a Harrods sale, there were bargains to be had. We used some of our wedding present money to buy a large white linen tablecloth and twelve napkins. Still using them forty years later. Now that is value for money.

We have used the napkins a lot, and there is something wonderful about objects like that. Purchased back when we had very little, all our possessions could fit in a small car, and did. They have just been there for decades, quietly useful. Crisply ironed and stored in a little drawer or crumpled on a dining table at the end of a good meal, they simply belong. They have their place.

Then I learnt about a little quirky thing which I love: if you have an account with Harrods and you charge things to it, you can just say these magic words … Could you send them to door three, please?

It was offered to me when i first used the card in store, a bit like the Rowan Atkinson character in Love Actually. “Would sir like these sent to door three?” and it was explained to me, then a boy was summoned … Downton Abbey as I live and breath.

Your shopping will be gathered together. You carry on shopping, unencumbered by parcels and bags. You can go and have lunch or afternoon tea without the hassle of lugging your purchases with you. At the end of the day, it is waiting for you at door three.

When you are really rich, this is the point where the helpful little Harrods man passes your purchases to your driver, who stows them in the boot of your very expensive car and whisks you home to recover from a hard day’s shopping.

It is also useful for people like me who trudge to the car park and find their own car. I have asked to have a driver, I have begged. So far — nothing.

I like huge sprawling malls with everything under one roof, places for coffee and eating, and glossy stores.

If I had to choose and money was no object, I would spend a few days in New York on Fifth Avenue. I could drop some serious money in shops like Tiffany’s and Calvin Klein, and spend many happy hours in Saks.

We currently have a self-imposed ban on visiting America… oh, you know why. I am very shallow and like nothing more than a mooching day in New York shops. A&F, Barnes & Noble, Dean & Deluca, with lunch including something stuffed with pastrami and mustard. 

I am very keen on a well-stocked kitchen shop, little tools, well-made knives, things for doing this and that. I suspect my ultimate job would be to shop to dress a set or furnish and accessorise a home for someone. Free rein to shop and buy knick-knacks and little things to put on shelves. Heaven.

I have long misunderstood the line between want and need. I am a sucker for a well-lit display, one in each colour, The idea that iI might one day wave a hand and say, “Yes, I’ll take those,” appeals enormously. 

I mourn the loss of the need to while away hours in record stores and bookshops. Streaming and downloading lack the feeling of rummaging and finding and discovering.

One of my favourite afternoons ever was finding a beautiful edition of The NeverEnding Story in a secondhand bookshop and taking it home and reading it for hours while a storm raged outside and created a soundtrack for The Nothing. You had to be there. I can be there instantly any time I pick it up.

My ultimate store is an Apple Store. I was once commanded to go to one and update our computers and devices, and I got to walk in and say, “Two of those, one of these, and please can I have a really big one of them?” In case you were wondering, it was exactly as satisfying as you might imagine.