I went to Denelm Mill to buy a duvet and as soon as I got through the door I needed to pee. Very badly. Not being quite as free-spirited as David Walliam's urinating pensioner I asked an assistant for the use of the staff bog. Before I did so I made up my mind that if they were sweet about it I'd do some extra shopping there. And they were, so I did.
TK Maxx. Sorry about all the mess and confusion I caused. But it is your own fault for having such a messy shop. You see I kept changing my mind about the items in my basket and wherever I was I'd jack them out so picture frames among the gift soap sets and size 18 tops lurking among the size 10 bottoms galore. Who cares? Hannah does. She says I am just the sort of customer she hates.
Then I went to Primark but everything there was vile beyond belief. It all looked like it had been screwed up into a ball, flung into a crate and left lying about some seaport somewhere for about six months while the Chinese argued with the rest of the world. And who knows? Maybe it had.
Of course my Christmas meats are already ordered at my local butcher with whom I am on first name terms.
Good morning James. Set aside for me one of your finest, big-breasted turkeys. Let it be a happy contented turkey hand fed by its loving farmer-owner and let it have spent many relaxing evenings watching Emmerdale with the farmer's wife, while she stroked its fine plumage and fiddled with its wattles, all the time whispering fond endearments in its ear. And if it's not too much trouble let it be one whose favourite composers are Handel and Puccini and whose delicate turkey ears have never been polluted by the likes of Eminem and 50 Cent.
Why certainly. Now what's your name again?
Moser! I tell you this every year!
Then this morning Paddy and I went for a brisk walk in Portglenone Forest and had it all to ourselves apart from the man from Clinty Quarry who was cleaning the paths in his special path-spraying lorry. A lot different from Sunday mornings when the Forest is stiff with athletes training and harriers racing. Last Sunday Hannah and I got some brave eyefuls of the young lads in the tight lycra trousers.
After our walk I patronised the Mission for Moldovia charity shop where I purchased a hand painted Clarice Cliff-a-like plate from the Tunstall pot bank. It will look well with a pile of my home made mince pies on it.
Then it was Portglenone's finest grocery vending emporium for the Big Christmas Shop. An excellent shopping experience all round. I like Portglenone. But I wouldn't want to live there.
3 comments:
"Last Sunday Hannah and I got some brave eyefuls of the young lads in the tight lycra trousers."
Nelly Moser!! What would Bert think? :P
TJ Maxx here, and it's just as messy, so I sympathize. :) One would think that single letter would make a difference - but nope.
Like the good Ulster-Scots Presbyterian he is he would be very shocked. So don't be telling him.
Aye, Bliss what is it with the different letter? No doubt they're the same company.
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