YOU don't need the mathematical brain power of James Clerk Maxwell to know that online sales are booming. Yet, long before we found ourselves in the midst of a global pandemic, I much preferred buying things on the internet as opposed to spending hours wandering round the shops.

I suppose it comes down to whether you view shopping as a pleasurable, leisure activity or a tedious, begrudged chore when you could be curled up in an armchair with a good book.

That's not to say I don't feel melancholy to see high streets across Scotland become pitiful shadows of the once-bustling thoroughfares. It would be nice to get the hearts of our towns and cities beating again, although I'm unconvinced rows of shops is the answer (more on that another time).

The big out-of-town retail parks aren't something I'm fond of either. A couple of times a year, I'll do "a day at the shops" – as others are wont to call it – which is usually sufficient to dissuade me of the notion for another six months or so.

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That said, shopping online is not without peril. Here's some of my less-wise purchases from the world wide web in recent months.

A camping hammock

The hammock itself is robust and well-made. When I purchased it, I had visions of lying in it of a Sunday afternoon enjoying a good book. What I didn't consider was that the swaying motion is not conducive to a relaxing time for someone with a predisposition to severe motion sickness.

Even in the gentlest of breezes, it feels like I'm aboard a pitching and rolling ship during a Force 12 storm. If I had tried the hammock in a shop first, I would have realised this. Still, the dog seems to like it and often hops in for a nap.

Cheap jogging bottoms

Bought on a whim thinking they would be good for lounging about the house and pottering in the garden (not jogging, definitely nothing more energetic than a brisk stroll). I despise them. Wearing these joggers is akin to being a walking black hole, drawing in anything and everything in your path.

They hold a static charge that packs a punch and attract clumps of dog hair like no other item of clothing I have known. I stepped outside the other day and within seconds my breeks had a layer of street debris, dandelion seeds, several bird feathers and an empty Wotsits bag clinging to them.

A potato grow bag

The photograph on the website showed a grow bag containing five or six potato plants. "Jolly good", I thought and ordered one. What arrived wouldn't look out of place on Lilliput Lane. It is tiny.

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Fitting two plants in was a tight squeeze and when I had a feel around beneath the compost to check on the growth of the potatoes, such is their cramped quarters that months later they are still the size of rabbit pellets. We live and learn.

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