Thursday, 17th March, 2005

Why I Always Do My Shopping Online

Hmm, interesting I was just driving home there from Kath's (I've been round watching Harry Potter and the Predictable Story this evening), and as I got to the top of my road, just by the castle, I noticed a guy stood leaning against the wall. As I passed him, he stuck his arm out and waved, as if to say "go ahead, please pass".

pfft

Like I need his permission?

Yeah, I know — he was absolutely wasted.

...

OK, let's quickly check: Doors locked (yep), coffee machine prepped (yep), bins emptied and bags left outside (yep), milk bottles on back door step (yep), cats fed (yep), legs waxed (ah, nope)

I'd better do that tomorrow, or I'll have crappy rashy legs on Saturday.

With everything in order and peaceful, let me try and explain why I hate shopping...

It's not anything to do with the principle of it, although I have my doubts about the morals of a consumer society it must be said, nor is it anything to do with handing over hard-earned-cash to someone else.

I think it's got something to do with my inability to assert myself in certain situations.

For example, about a year ago when I was buying things to spruce up my house the day before me and Kath's first date ... I went to B&Q to get a blind for my nedroom window (making the assumption that if she came back, it would not be good to have nothing covering the window )

So I quickly grabbed one from their little stock of blinds — from where I'd grabbed several before — but it wasn't until I got to the checkout (and the till said about £50 more than all the others had cost me) that I realised I'd picked up a blackout blind by mistake.

Now, I gather that what normal people do in these situations, is apologise, then go back to change it. But not me. Instead, I spent the whole of the walk home sheepishly trying to convince myself that actually having a blackout blind was a Good Thing.

It's something to do with not wanting to cause a scene I guess — that very British (she says, questioning her Irishness) trait. And it's the reason I feel really bad when I'm in shops and I want to try something on.

Last night, while we were in the Trafford Centre, I tried a few jackets on in Top Shop — but I felt really awkward.

I'm OK trying on big dresses when there's no-one else around, but stick me in a shop full of people and I freeze.

Before you get the wrong idea here, let me just explain that it's got nothing to do with men or women's clothes — I'm the same whichever I'm buying. I bought a bra today, from Marks and Spencers, but I'd have just as much difficulty taking it back if it didn't fit as I would have with the socks I bought at the same time.

It's even the same with computer equipment. Normally, I know exactly what it is that I'm after, so I don't get into situations where the things aren't right. However I bought myself a "three metre" USB extension lead the other day, and even though I could see in the packaging that it was nowhere near three metres, I didn't say anything. Fortunately, I only asked for 3m to be on the safe side, and it turned out to be long enough — but that's beside the point...

I suppose one of the other reasons I hate shopping, is that I can never find what I'm after — even in somewhere like the Trafford Centre.

I'm a fussy little bitch sometimes, I really am. I get mental images of how I want something to be — and once I do, then nothing else is going to be good enough. Take this quest-for-a-jacket I'm currently on. I can picture (sort of) the thing in my head, but I can't find anything like it in the shops. I also can't wuite explain what it is either (the closest I get is that it's "the fashion equivalent of that table I bought").

Anyway, to buck a trend, I actually managed to go someway to achieving Good Shopping today.

Not only did I manage to find a great pair of black jeans (to replace the ones that you can see my arse through), and then went into Marks and Spencers and bought a bra all by myself , not only those, I also went into the Assembly Rooms to see if there was a jacket.

The Assembly Rooms in Lancaster is a little traders market. The building itself is very old, and (I think) was built by William Penny to raise funds so that he could build the equally as old Alms Houses next door — those funny little houses that old men live in.

If you're ever in Lancaster, I thoroughly recommend paying a visit — especially for the clothes. There's, of course, the woman with the red lipstick who was transported directly from the 1920s into the present day, who sells all sorts of antique clothing, and in the back bit is the bald guy who seems to spend his days gathering together every single item of clothing that has ever been worn.

It's a trannie paradise — clothes from almost every era, all hanging up — and you know that if I ever got the chance to go there one night when no-one else was around, I'd be in heaven.

So I went into the back bit, and started looking around. I tried to explain to the guy what I was after, but nothing he got out for me to try on seemed right. I tried on velvet jackets, 1940s suits, leather jackets, safari jackets, even a French military jacket — but nothing was right.

It occured to me though, that I'd wasted about half and hour of his time — he'd been running round the hangars getting things down that he thought might be good — and I felt really really guilty that I didn't like anything.

But, in a complete change of personal habit, I managed to walk out without buying anything Which is quite an achievement for me.

...

Anyway, I'm rambling.

I just thought I'd mention though, that when I got home, I tried the new outfit from River Island on again — with the new bra, and it works great. The bra is one of those ones you can wear different ways — and if I leave the straps off then it holds my tits in fine, although I might just use a little glue to stop them flying across the dancefloor.

The only thing is, I tried my boots with the outfit, and while I can see that boots are definately the way to go, I could probably do a lot better if I had brown boots — so I'm going to have to go shopping again.

...

Oh yeah — something else. Small women.

Small women laden with hundreds of big bags darting in and out of rows of hangers. Small women standing right in front of you while you're trying to look at stuff. Small women who push their way in front of you in a queue. Small women who seem to be right at home in Debenhams.

That's another reason.

Yeah Miss K, but do I look like I'm made of money?

Kris, puns have no place on the internet They may be supported by Netscape 4.0, but like the <blink> tag, they're defunct

I must just point out that I didn't enjoy trying on all those jackets — I only really did it to (a) prove to myself that I could, and (b) to keep the shop keeper happy.