Well I ventured out today at 9am to take in the Christmas sales and see what clothing bargains I could get. I took my new and very fetching Tartan Shopper (TS) with extra-wide gusset (a "Granny" special) that my mum had got me for Crimbo, to save me juggling about 12 carrier bags on only 10 fingers.
I also didn't bother to do my hair, since it was already pelting down with snow and wind, so what was the point of a nice coiff? Add to the fact I had another crap nights sleep, had dark shadows under my eyes, and with the addition of my duffle coat I resembled a fully fledged Bag Lady.
On hitting the shops looking like said Bag Lady, I realised the TS was a bad idea - I think every single shop attendant eyed me up as I walked in with duffle coat and Big Bag and scruffy hair, and immediately thought "shoplifter!!!" and as I browsed the racks with an armful of clothes, I felt the Young Trendy Shop Girls closing in, ready to pounce should I make a dash for the door. After I duly tried the clothes on then paid for them, refusing a carrier bag (horrid plastic!) and putting the clothes in my TS, I think they relaxed somewhat. However I still felt like the biggest frump in the cosmiverse and wished I had done my hair and worn a different coat.
As I trailed from shop to shop and bought stuff, the TS got heavier and heavier. Why is it that every single bloody item I touched on a clothes rack promptly fell off the hangar and onto the floor, leaving me with the choice of walking off and leaving it, or struggling with TS, armful of clothes, and said item of clothing?? This while other rude nubile size 8s shoved past me, kneeing my TS and staring at the Funny Bag Lady swearing at a coathanger....
I also have realised that Top Shop trousers will NEVER fit me - they are obviously styled for today's pear-shaped girl who has a beer belly overhang and no waist - every pair I tried on stuck out like a champagne class around my hips and waist, as if waiting for me to suddenly expand into them.
Changing rooms left a lot to be desired, with most having little or no hooks to hang your coat and clothes. Some hooks helpfully pointed downwards and had no ends on them, so your clothes fell straight off onto the floor. Others smelt of niffy feet, and all were manned by sullen teens who looked down their noses at you as if to say "HA that won't suit YOU, Bag Lady!!!" and eyed my bulging TS with suspicion.
In every shop there were helpless-looking men standing around looking utterly fed up, or following their women around the racks and nodding listlessley at their ravings about the sparkly pink top with 40% off, or sitting outside changing rooms with "FFS HURRY UP!" written all over their faces. All these trendy clothes shops need a seating area and copious amounts of Top Gear magazine/Maxim/GQ to keep these poor guys from going insane.
As usual the young girls serving at the counter were as polite as always (see earlier Whinge at http://spaces.msn.com/members/whinges/Blog/cns!1phRy8Dn8LuYsTPHFr5S_KOQ!120.entry), and only Bay Trading got top marks for customer service and the remotest hint of frendliness. Every other shop not a word was spoken as the jumped up little teens took my money and avoided my eye contact. If they were pissed off to be working over Christmas then TOUGH SHIT, don't work in retail! But be the F*CK nice to us Bag Ladies, we may be eccentric millionaires that could change your life ....
I went to Chapelfield, the new shopping centre in Norwich, and bloody hell it was carnage in there - at 1pm I gave up - just too many people...I hobbled along with my heavy TS, and started to not care I was kneecapping people with it as I shoved through the crowds of slowly-walking Chavs and fat girls in hipsters. I caught one (rather nice looking) young man staring at me with an amused smile on his face. I wondered if he'd noticed the trance-like look of "get me out" desperation in my face as I hobbled along, or whether he was laughing at the Funny Ginger Bag Lady. Other young lads walked around in t-shirts outsidfe - WTF? It had started to SNOW heavily and these idiots were in t-shirts?!
I finally got to my car and worked my way out of town. In true Norwich City Council style, none of the roads had been gritted, and a slushy buildup had started. Cars crawled along, and one irritating twat in an Audi put his fog lights on - AS IF THAT WOULD HELP YOU IDIOT. Is it foggy?!? NO! Then f*cking turn off those dazzling lights before I ram you on purpose!
Smug Gits in 4x4s were everywhere, being Smug and thinking "I'm in a 4x4 so I can get through the snow, HA HAAAA I'M KING OF THE ROAD". Er not quite - the sight of one wheelspinning up Rose Lane was hilarious. 4x4s are even more lethal in slippery weather because they are more likely to roll in the event of a skid, and smash into ickle Golf drivers like me. Specially when they don't bother to scrape their side and rear windows and are driving blind - their already limited all-round vision is limited even more by their sheer laziness in window-scraping.
Bought a loads of luvvly Crimbo decorations at 50% off for next year, then went home and unpacked, only to discover that the funky china roll-top bath I'd purchased with requisite bath smellies and a teddy stuffed inside, had got smashed in bloody TS, and was useless - waste of a fiver. I only wanted the little rolltop bath to use in the new bathroom, and all I was left with was a ruddy teddy and some sickly pink bath smellies. Charity Shop!!!!
After cleaning the lounge and doing the ironing and making a sossie casserole for tea (yum) I'm now going to attempt to relax and sew another Snuggle Hammock for my neglected ickle ratties.