Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Sales nightmare

Oh Lord, don't talk to me about the bloody sales. Honestly, they're a nightmare! And, in our two hour sojourn in Guildford today, it seemed like not much of any interest was actually in the sales at all. Damn it. And I do so hate crowds ... Lord H and I finally came away with one pair of green shoes with heels which I managed to snatch from the hands of a white-haired old lady who was about to reject them, I'm sure (really - even I'm not that mean!) of it (which are mine - for my dancing lessons. I mention the heels as normally I don't do heels) and one dusky pink shirt (his - for those New Man moments), as well as a lot of existential angst.

But we cheered up in Godalming Waitrose which was (a) fairly empty (not surprising as it's just so damn expensive, but Lord H will shop nowhere else ...) and (b) had everything we wanted - or almost everything - plus bargains. We ended up buying cut-price Lindor shaped chocolates for the Christmas tree - which we don't actually have, being a non-tree, non-decoration household. Puritanism starts here, y'know. But, what the hell, it's chocolate. So everyone wins.

This afternoon, I am going to attempt to make the flat look habitable as my brother-in-law, Peter, and his fiancee, Sue, are coming for dinner tonight. Lord H is cooking. Thank God. I will have to try to appear normal, though I'm not sure I've succeeded yet. Lovely people, but they're staying at a local hotel tonight, so our home still remains our own - hurrah!

I'll have to remember to video "Torchwood" though - Lord H and I can't do without our weekly fix of bizarre pseudo-erotic antics. More pseudo than erotic, really, I'm sad to say. Ah well. If only we had digital, eh?...

Today's nice things:

1. Buying a pair of dancing shoes
2. Finding cut-price Lindor. Bliss
3. Not having overnight guests.

Anne Brooke


The Periodic Englishman said...

"Puritanism: that haunting feeling that someone, somewhere, is happy".

I'm not sure who said that, exactly, but it makes me laugh every time. Why oh why would you deprive yourself of the joys of a fully decorated Christmas tree? It is an essential part of festive happiness, my girlfriend tells me.

No, please, why would you not have a tree? I'm looking for watertight arguments to bamboozle her with and should like to start rehearsing them in plenty of time for next year.

Good luck with trying to appear normal, by the way. I struggle with this problem daily and very rarely succeed.

Kind regards etc

PS. I had actually wanted to talk about the sales - but for some reason you forbade this in your very first sentence. Whatever happened to free speech? Sheesh.

Anne Brooke said...

Ooh, definitely talk about the sales, TPE - I'm all ears!

Why no Christmas tree? They always make me very depressed, funnily enough - perhaps because I don't get on well with my family (most of it anyway), and Christmas trees remind me of (a) attempting to have perfect family Christmases and failing (b) my family - arghh!! And Lord H doesn't mind one way or the other, to be honest, so we have a much happier time without!

Have a great New Year!


The Periodic Englishman said...

Eeh Gads - I never for a moment thought you'd answer my comment. It is a depressing surprise to me how few people actually acknowledge their visitors in blogland - and no, I won't be holding it against you if you fail to respond to this, because I realise I've been a little tardy in coming back to check. You have already written another five or six posts - you're not Enid Blyton in disguise, are you? - and I'm not sure that it is fair to expect someone to keep on checking their old posts.

I really do go on, I'm sorry.

Anyway, the sales. I love them and they disgust me, if that makes any sense? I love the sheer joy that is felt when a bargain is unearthed - we're talking at least 75% off the original price here - and I love the fact that my girlfriend allows me to choose my own clothes when the sales are on. She is too frenzied by the sheer bargain hunting madness of it all to pay my disastrous choices any heed. If you think I'm joking, you are very wide of the mark.

What I don't like so much is the near imbalancing greed that seems to overcome everybody. Myself included. Rationality is booted out the window. The thing is, in my heart of hearts, I am well aware that even with 75% off the asking price I am still being asked to pay more than the thing is actually worth. And yet I am supposed to consider this a "bargain" and feel pleased? Utter madness. I just hate myself for falling for it every single time.

Also - and this hurts - I find myself buying stuff I would never normally buy full price. Not because it is too expensive, but because it is too horrible. But suddenly, with the price slashed dramatically, the most ghastly garments and tasteless objects can become alluring. And if you buy something you don't need, let alone like, surely this is a waste of money and can hardly, as such, be classed as a bargain? I think it might more accurately be described as money down the drain.

Alright, enough already. I know what you mean about Christmas trees being mildly depressing, by the way. I also find that Christmas carols have a habit of hurting me quite badly. Don't get me wrong, I love them - it's just that there is something unbearably sad and empty about them that turns my mind to darkness. It is a beautiful kind of pain, to be sure, and I actively seek it out - but it hurts nevertheless.

I really am finished now, rest easy. I need to get back to watching the cricket. More pain.

Kind regards and a Happy New Year to you.

Anne Brooke said...

Enid Blyton? Ah, now would I were half as popular, my life would indeed be complete. I do have a very soft spot for the Famous Five and the Secret Seven - does anyone but me remember them nowadays??

But fear not, tpe, the sales are almost over and we can get back to not having anything to wear at all - rather than terrible things that even our mothers wouldn't buy us. I'm impressed that the gf allows you to buy your own items - she is indeed a saint in the making.