hilkat

I know, I know. Online diaries are supposed to be updated regularly, if not daily. What can I say? I’m a slacker!

The wedding I mentioned last time came and went; I vaguely remember confetti, I sort of remember vodka, and I definitely remember an empty wallet at the end of the night. In terms of present, me and my friend decided to go for a Debenhams voucher, the simplest option which involved no standing in the homeware section of a department store - he ordered it online. As we handed over the envelope with it in I hissed out of the corner of my mouth, “haaarr mmcchhh wssss it frrr?” He looked at me sideways and said, “I caaaatt remmmbbber.” We fled before they opened it, so we didn’t have to pretend to look modest or ashamed, whether it was £100.00 or £10.00 respectively. This is why I don’t do weddings. I may not have forked out a load of cash for the present, but the money I spent at the bar certainly made up for it.

I decided to take a few days off from my day job (something to do with an architect…), and spent many a happy hour engrossed in cinematic viewing with The Boy. Well, I was happy at least. We saw Stephen King adaptation 1408 (”A bit slow”). the new remake of Halloween (”I was bored halfway through”) by Rob ‘House of 1,000 Corpses’ Zombie, and rented The Amityville Horror (”Not as good the second time round”). There really is no pleasing some people. I should have just got The Devil Wears Prada and had done with it.

Friday was spent undertaking extensive research for articles. Ok, ok….I went shopping. The Boy was supposed to be looking for a new winter coat, and to get him in the mood I decided to break him in gently (he’s not exactly a retail guru) by assisting me first. I ploughed through Topshop (the only pants I can ever find to fit my non-existant arse), passed through H&M (brown ankle boots, V.V.V.V. lush - Winters must have shoe) and then we arrived at the entrance at The Assault Course AKA Primark. I love it there simply because it’s good disposable fashion, and it’s so cheap that I can shop without conscience, amassing piles of clothes, shoes and accessories as I go. Obviously I’d prefer it to be Prada to Primark, but beggars can’t be choosers. Despite dancing around in front of him in an attempt to hide the retail horror that lay within, the doorway’s width overcame me, and I saw a look of horror flash across his face. And was that fear I saw in his eyes?

“In there?” he said, gesturing to the heaving mass of people and piles of discarded clothes that lay on the floor inside.

“It’s fine,” I said, nodding, “just…stay close to me. And try not to get in the way of women who look like this.” I pulled what I hoped looked like a determined face, as if I was going to get that £5.00 faux snakeskin bag, even if it killed me.

It turned out that he was quite handy in Primark, managed not to get in the way, and was a very willing coat-rack, bless him. There was a worrying moment when he came between a woman and the very last £4.00 poloneck jumper (sooooooo on trend this season), but he managed to dodge out of the way at the loast second. The winter coat? Errr… no. He didn’t…find one he liked. Me? I found a few bits…

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 17th, 2007 at 1:30 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.