Shopaholic on Honeymoon by Sophie Kinsella

Venice
    OK. Don’t panic.
    Don’t
panic
. The water taxi isn’t going to sink. We’ll just have to rearrange our packages. Venetian water taxis must be used to a bit of shopping, surely?
    ‘What the hell’s this?’ Luke is sweating as he manhandles our last purchase into the water taxi: a massive bundle of bubble wrap and corrugated card and Sellotape.
    I look at him indignantly. How can he ask, ‘What’s this?’
    ‘It’s our set of twelve Murano glass goblets!’ I say. ‘You were there when we chose them! All the different colours, remember? Weren’t you concentrating?’
    ‘Right.’ Luke looks at the huge parcel again. ‘Did we have to buy twelve glass goblets?’
    ‘They’re
Murano
glass,’ I repeat patiently. ‘We’re in
Venice
, Luke. Everyone buys Murano glass in Venice. It’s practically the law.’
    ‘But we bought some Murano glass,’ he points out. ‘When we were actually on Murano, yesterday. The dish. Remember?’
    I’m silent for a moment. I know we bought a dish on Murano. But what’s a tiny little dish compared to twelve amazing goblets? I’m already imagining all the dinner parties we’ll throw, using the goblets for aperitifs. We’ll have our dining room totally Venetian. People will say, ‘Have you
seen
the Brandons’ Venetian goblets?’
    ‘Everyone needs goblets,’ I say at last. ‘Come on. Sit down. Enjoy the sunshine.’
    Luke makes his way past all our bags and lifts a hand to the water taxi driver.
    ‘
Scusi
,’ he says. ‘
Finito
.’
    As we move off down the canal, I lean back, put on my shades and beam at Luke. We’re having the perfect honeymoon. No, the über-perfect honeymoon.
    To be honest, we needed it. Our whole wedding situation turned into a bit of a saga, and we’ve both been really tense. In fact, at one point I actually thought we might both have nervous breakdowns. Or heart attacks. (Or some kind of horrible, stressy skin complaint, which would have been the
worst
.) Anyway. That all seems ages ago, now. We set off last week from Oxshott, and spent a week in Rome, then flew on to Venice.
    We’ve been here for two days and already I’m completely used to travelling about on canals. In fact, I don’t know why we don’t use the Thames more when we’re in London. Why don’t we have gondolas and water taxis whizzing about all the time?
    And look at the way they’re all dressed so smartly in matching stripy tops and boaters. Why don’t London taxi drivers wear matching costumes? You’d think the Mayor would have thought of that. In fact, I might write him a letter about it.
    ‘Luke, when we get back to London, I think you should commute to work by boat,’ I say firmly. ‘It makes total sense. And it’s probably greener, too. Maybe we could buy a boat, even!’
    Luke turns to look at me. His face is silhouetted against the backdrop of an amazing Venetian building with crumbling shutters, and I can’t quite read his expression.
    ‘Darling, are you going to be like this all the way round the world?’ he says at last.
    ‘What?’
    ‘When we get to Sri Lanka, are you going to tell me I should really start commuting by elephant?’
    ‘No!’
    ‘When we get to the Arctic, are you going to want to buy a skidoo?’
    ‘No!’ I say, immediately wondering what a skidoo is and how much they cost. ‘Anyway, we’re not going to the Arctic.’
    ‘Glad to hear it.’
    I squeeze his hand and beam at him. I’m in charge of our itinerary and I haven’t divulged it yet, except that we’re going round the world. I want to surprise him as we go along.
    Also, I want to stay flexible. Maybe we’ll want to spend longer in one place … leave out another … think of somewhere completely new … Perhaps we
should
go to the Arctic. I’ve always wanted to see penguins. Or are they at the Antarctic? Could we do both?
    Anyway. The point is, we’ve got a year to fill. Just the thought of it makes me feel exhilarated. We’re free! Luke has temporarily