My socks are safe at last

It’s the sort of thing I say I’ll never buy and then am really glad I did.

Last week saw the Garden Press Event 2010, a gathering of around sixty companies, showing off their wares to garden designers and various media writers, journalists and presenters.

Old hands use it to meet friends, liaise with editors and, no doubt, focus tightly on their particular interests. Others, like me (or perhaps just me?) bounce from stand to stand like an enthusiastic puppy.

Old hands stroll out with a few items of interest. Others (er, me) stagger out under the weight of brochures, price lists, press releases and samples. So burdened was I that the ten-minute walk to Vauxhall station was out of the question; I had to take a taxi.

My purchase? Well, I’m not the only person to think them really useful. One of the organisers told the stallholders that they’d never sell them (the show being about marketing, not selling), but by the time I swung by half an hour before closing, most of the stock had gone.