EVERYWHERE CLOSES AT EIGHT

"How would you like to pay, sir, cash or card?"

I rested the heavy tin of paint on the counter, reached into my pocket and unexpectedly pulled out a tape measure.

"Um probably not with this," I said, trying to be funny.

I need to remember that teenagers and I have different ideas about what is humourous.

"Yeah we close at eight," he said. Not a flicker.

I had left my wallet at home. There was no way I could get back in time. I left the paint, ambled out into the car park and sat in the darkness, watching people go into KFC.

While I was wondering why so many people like eating scraps out of a bucket, my phone buzzed. It was my friend, Mike.

Hi Matt. I called earlier to see if you were free for a coffee this evening. Maybe another time.

I must have missed the call. I rang him back.

"Yeah I'm in Starbucks in Sainsbury's," he said, "But they close at eight."

"Course they do," I said, "Everywhere does. I'll be there in ten."

No painting for me then last night. Mike bought me a tea in Starbucks, we wandered round Sainsbury's for a bit and then I went home.

"You're back early!" said my Mum.

"Yes," I replied. "I forgot my wallet, couldn't buy any paint, and it was just easier to come home."

It was probably a more enjoyable evening than I'd been expecting. I didn't have to fight with a broken paint roller. Neither did I have to sponge up flecks of paint that had splattered past the dust sheet and onto the carpet. It does mean though, that I've still got the same amount of painting left to do - one coat in the spare room, three on the hall and stairs. The task stretches out in a way that would make Hercules think twice.

Plus I'm going to have to go back and buy that paint from the youth club at my local DIY store. So long as I get there well before eight... and I don't try to pay for it with a tape measure.