January 25, 2012 § 22 Comments
One of my children was going for an assessment at a place an hour or so from our house. No point in going there and back again in the time the assessment would take, so a good four hours to kill. For several days I am afraid, I had been looking forward to this luxuriously unchartered stretch. I had been envisaging myself setting up Blackberry and ipad in a charming cafe, steaming latte to hand, doing a few emails, spot of work, catching up with sorting out my diary, the papers; maybe my least favourite job ever, that of noting down my annual expenditure and payments for the delectation of my accountant. In a cafe environment, even the impact of that particular tedium I thought could be assuaged a tad? And, somewhere, I’ll admit, I thought, if I hang out in a cafe for that long, which I never normally do, who knows, maybe I’ll fall into conversation with a nice fellow in a Barbour (this being a country town) and we might talk about the weather (rain).
Well, of course, it didn’t quite work out like that, did it? The charming independent cafe that I had in mind, full of plug sockets and extra frothy lattes and jovial men with an eye for a diligent new girl in town, I couldn’t seem to find. There was, of course, rather contrary to the Georgian spirit of the place but wholly within the spirit of our ubiquitous times, a Costa, where I got my latte but where I couldn’t get a phone signal. Or wi-fi. No wi-fi in Pizza Express either. Grrr. I had a few urgent emails so, rather at a loss, had to sit in my car, faintly chilly, and cursing my steering wheel for its inability to double-up as an even half-way adequate desk. My eyes darted about the High Street wondering where to go to find warmth and wi-fi and wonderous weathermen. In so doing, I spotted a Jigsaw with “SALE” in the window writ large. Well, what can you do? Fuck it, I thought. I am not one for retail therapy, or any kind of therapy for that matter, but nothing wrong with a quick look.
So, the long and the short of that little jaunt was that I came away from that pretty wee town a whole heap poorer than when I entered into it. Poorer in the sense of money and no men.
But I did find a nice new line in shower gel at Waitrose.
Oh, so many reasons to be cheerful!