To some, hell on earth. Hours parading shops offering the same wares (albeit with different labels), shoved and elbowed by inconsiderate, near frenzied shopaholics. Eugh!
To others, heaven. Hours browsing, feeling and smelling cotton, silk, leather. Marvelling at intricate designs and applauding innovative shapes, even with inconsiderate, near frenzied, shopaholics shoving and elbowing you out of their way.
I belong to the second camp.
I could shop for England. If the 2012 Olympics had a shopping event I’d be there, debit card in hand, flat shoes and eagle eye at the ready. Bring it on, I say.
With all the studying laid to rest I had booked some time aside to do some serious stuff (you know… VAT returns, business plans, stock take… yawn)… however…with the sun beaming and my fingers itching I thought ‘Your economy needs you‘.
Having driven 70 miles for my dining room table and scoured Europe for my sunroom floors (there are no lengths I won’t go to for a bargain) I thought nothing about a day trip to stock The Closet.
And what a trip.
Again, the universe and I are obviously in sync as the brief shopping list I made (e.g. must get some Neil Barrett) manifested into a yummy, scrummy haul of stuff that I know I’m going struggle to let go of (Including a couple of Neil Barrett lovelies).
Do I really need a day job… or can I just do this for the rest of my life?