High Speed Clothes Shopping
It's been a year or so since I bought any new clothes for myself. Actually, when I say it has been a year, it's probably been two or three years. When you're a parent of three kids, and have an other half that looks down on any kind of “time to yourself” pretty dismally, you end up doing what I did this morning – leaving first thing on a rare day off to go clothes shopping, buying everything inside half an hour, and going home again. Of course it wasn't as straightforward as that – that would be silly.
The day began by jumping in the shower, and then putting the kettle on. That was when I discovered we had run out of milk. After closing the fridge, and nearly having my neck broken by the cats (doing their expert “stand in the way” act), I discovered we had also run out of cat food. Okay... corner shop it is then.
Ten minutes later I was standing in the queue at the corner shop behind a slightly strange guy in his mid 30s with a waxed jacket, having a long and involved conversation with the septegenarian behind the counter about buying credit for a gas meter. I passed the time reading newspaper headlines – and then started reading the articles. Finally the owner of the shop realised what was going on, walked in, and served me directly. Strangely once he appeared the assistant sped up 500 fold. Go figure.
So – back in the house, feed the cats, dump the milk in front of the queue of waiting children, and leave immediately to catch the bus into town. The bus stop is filled with ladies of a certain age, so I stand in the spitting rain. When the bus finally arrives we all get on, and everybody else seems to have a bus pass.
It didn't really occur to me until we got back off the bus a few miles up the road – but older people areslow. It's fine – I get it – they don't have to get anywhere, or be anywhere by a certain time. They can potter along at their own speed (warp factor minus one), but still...get out of the WAY. I almost lost the will to live standing and waiting (like a well mannered young man) for them all to get the hell off the bus. Finally I did, and was the only person that said thankyou to the driver... go figure. I'm guessing the rest were too busy chewing on wasps.
Another thing occurred to me while walking to the department store where I would buy all my clothes in half an hour. Old people out shoppingknow everybody. I'm not kidding. They can't walk five yards without apprehending somebody of a similar age walking in the opposite direction, and stopping to ask how they are – which is really a pre-amble totell the other person about the horror their life has become – their ailments, the ailments of their next door neighbour, and the disappointment their offspring have become.
As already hinted – I boughtall my clothes inside half an hour. That's probably an exaggeration – it was more like fifteen minutes inside the shop. Several sweat shirts, several shirts, a tie, a couple of pairs of trousers, a couple of packs of socks, a couple of packs of underwear... I almost enjoyed it. I guess it helps that I'm a pretty uniform size – clothes tend to just “fit” me.
I rolled up at one of the many counters, and the guy serving made a comment about doubling up the bags because of the huge mound of clothes I was buying. I made a comment about replacing all of my work clothes in one go, and he smiled. We eventually had quite an entertaining conversation about him never looking at the clothes in the store -because he works there. I looked at my watch, and asked how many minutes he had left today, and we both grinned. Glad to know I'm not the only one who wishes the end of the day closer.
I left, and returned immediately to the bus station, caught the very next bus, and was home about an hour after I left. After dumping the bags in the kitchen, my other half appeared.
“You weren't gone long?”
“You told me we were going out this afternoon and I had to be back!”
“But it's raning now...”
“Oh.”