So I have a day off work today, purely to go Christmas shopping. Yes, rather early you may think, but here's the deal: some people started thier shopping when Woolworths put up their Christmas decorations during the 2nd week of October. October is way too early for me. I usually shop the 2nd Friday of December but I have Christmas lunch with the office that day and I start seeing my friends for Christmas celebrations on that same day. So, today is the day.
I have already decided to go to Brent Cross instead of Bluewater, my usual Christmas haunt, since it now has the same shops after being revamped and has a generally nicer atmosphere. Plus its nearer, which about says it all when you wake up in the morning and find thick fog hanging around. I had full headlights on and couldn't see more than 300 yards ahead.
But I had been alerted of a new chain of shops opening across the country: Hobbycraft. It sounds geeky but they are the only non-business suppliers of candlemaking equipment within 50 miles of London and I have to satisfy my hobbying urges! So I have to trek to Watford first. Okay, fine. I can do this.
I get in the car and shoot up the M25 to Watford. Off the motorway, on to the roundabout and... There are three roads. One for North Watford, one for Watford town centre, and one for South Watford. Each direction is Watford. I'm in the Watford Alternate Universe. Scary. I know I don't want the town centre, because that's basically the Harlequin, a down-and-out shopping centre for chavs. So its North or South. I plump for South after three circuits of the roundabout. Down a little road, through a small town and following an incredibly large articulated lorry, I finally reach a retail outlet and discover Hobbycraft. Cool. But all they sell is parrafin wax and stearic acid. No moulds, dye sticks, wicks, moulding sealant, tiled blocks, scents... I was sorely disappointed. It was a good store if you want to furnish a dolls house or make your own Christmas cards, but candlemaking? Uh uh!! Apparently I need a bigger store. The search continues...
I buy 2kg of parrafin wax and stearic acid and leg it to Brent Cross. And I manage to buy presents for everyone, even my brother, who is so difficult to buy for on a budget, when all he wants is expensive music equipment and accessories. Shopping done, I relax in a sunken area on the ground floor which has been converted into a Starbucks (isn't everywhere?). I sip on my usual grande white mocha, coated with chocolate and vanilla, and make sure I haven't missed anyone off my list.
On the table next to me, a young man looking oh-so-much like Ralph Fiennes (I kid you not!) is playing with a new video phone. He's fiddling with the buttons and searching frantically through a tiny instruction manual. I try not to pay too much attention. He is then joined by a young woman and a girl of about four. She kneels on her chair and eats packets of brown sugar. She starts to sing 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' very softly. I notice her parents are now filming her with the phone. The mother's going, "Sing up, sweetie, so everyone can hear," and the girl obliges. The proud parents look about them, making sure everyone is looking at their kid, and grinning at anyone who so much as glances. It was cringingly embarrassing. I don't like parents who act like their child is the best child that ever lived.
Finaly got home about 5.30pm and Anna fancied going to the cinema. So we went along to the UCG and watched Bridget Jones 2. Not as funny as the first one, except the fight between Colin Firth and Hugh Grant. This fight was loads funnier. Watching Hugh being chased around a fountain was hysterical! But I didn't like Colin as much in this one. He was more of a pompous git with a snooker cue up his arse. And Hugh seemed loads nicer, not so oily as before. Sure, he hadn't learned the error of his ways, but he seemed nicer on the whole. And the whole Thailand prison thing seemed like a last-minute idea because they hadn't enough material to fill up two hours. It reeked too much of that box office flop Brokedown Palace. I saw it coming a mile off. Maybe, because Brokedown Palace was such a bad film, the film-makers hoped that none of the audience had actually seen it and it was perfectly acceptable to steal the entire film's storyline and shove it into Bridget Jones 2.
No comments:
Post a Comment