Last night, teetering on tiny kitten heels, three of us left a discussion on the work-life balance, determined to set the scales in favour of life. "I know a great bar," boomed our group leader. "The only problem is, it's a five minute walk." At this, I turned pale: "Perhaps we should get a cab?" "Yes, let's," said our other friend, "I'll pay." Disembarking at an hotel in St James, we found a bar so full and noisy I was able to groan aloud as my aching feet marched its length. Settling for a more sedate part of the establishment, we started working our way through the cocktail list. During a lull, the gay Canadian barman sidled up. "I have a real treat for you ladies. It's my own creation: What a woman wants. My clients say it's better than sex." Did any of us have a long enough memory to make the comparison? It mattered not. We ordered three glasses immediately. "I don't suppose," I said hopefully, warming to the theme of substitutions, "You could supply chocolate too?" Ten minutes later a sublime concoction that included Baileys, Frangelico and cream, arrived at the table, along with a bar of Toblerone. The girls watched suspiciously as, slipping it from the box, I carefully ran my fingers across the foil: "You're taking this too far." But I was merely counting the triangles. Four each. Back outside as dusk finally fell, I made the most of our longest day by enjoying it from the back of a taxi home. Sometimes the simplest of moments are the most sublime:-)