I opened the first bottle: dull, lacking flavour, limp, oxidisation starting to rear its ugly wet cardboard head.
I opened the second then the third – the same problem. The fourth remained unopened – I'd got the message.
Braving the icy roads, clutching my receipt, I took them back to M&S.
The checkout assistant summoned a friendly lady from the stock room. A profuse apology was offered while a refund form was being filled in.
I took my money and turned to leave.
"Wait, you haven't got your replacements."
A bag containing four more bottles was thrust at me.
I paused while I wiped away a tear of joy at the niceness of the world (almost).
