Thursday, 2 July 2009

Burning the candle at both ends?

My my, well I have a very busy month coming up. Working it out today, my Fridays are booked up until August! Apart from zoo every other Sunday, Weight Watchers on a Tuesday and St John on a Thursday, here are some of the highlights of my upcoming month, in no particular order:
  • Going to see Alien and Poltergeist on the big screen at Somerset House

  • Seeing my lovely Mikey

  • Going to watch the Barber of Seville at Trafalgar Square

  • Seeing Marky and Claray, who I haven't seen in FOREVER!

  • Going horsie riding in the New Forest with Nicki, my bday pressie to her

  • Seeing Jennymay AT THE PUB!

  • Nickis BBQ

  • Going to see Harry Potter at the IMAX

Is that it? Have I forgotten anything? I'll be sure to add it when I check my diary later if I have!

Wooo!! Plenty to write about for the old bloggage, if I can only find the time.

The horsie riding is this weekend and I was reliably informed that leggings are the best thing to wear,anything without a seam running down the inside of the leg as it rubs. So I figured I'd wander down to Primark after work and pick up some cheapo leggings and maybe a baggy cardi to go over my baggy vest I'm planning to wear.

Have you ever been into Primark on Oxford Street?


I thought I'd died and gone to either shoppers heaven or just plain hell.......and I ain't no shopper.

People everywhere, no indication of where certain items may be, no signs pointing a bewildered customer in the direction of 'trousers', 'tops', 'pants'. I did at one point see an 'EXIT' sign, which called to me like a siren, luring me not onto rocks, but a precariously balanced display of diamante-encrusted opentoe-slingbacks.

After searching half heartedly for a few minutes, pushed violently out of the way by more than one Paris-Hilton wannabe on a mission for size 8 ultra mini shortie shorts, I found the leggings stand. Almost all were size 10 or size 8. Now I know I've lost a bit of weight....but this wasn't going to happen. I wandered meekly around before calling my sister. My sister. My haven when it comes to all things shopping, my teacher, my shopping Buddha. After wailing down the phone about the hopelessness of it all she just says

'Shall I pop into the one in Croydon and get some for you?'

I had resigned myself to just wearing crotch-popped jeans, or a pair of crappy tracksuit bottoms, but my Nickeh saved me. Thank you Nickeh.

I battled on bravely and picked a couple of tops up, dreading the queue when I got to the counter. I was amazed almost to the point collapse when there was hardly any queue and I was called up almost immediately to a till. When I say I was called up, I was actually summoned by a man in a high vis jacket, yes....HIGH VIS JACKET, you know, like policemen, firefighters etc. This man was patrolling the queue, looking important and shouting 'NEXT PLEASE!!' every time someone became free. Very military, very impressive.

Despite the highly organised queuing system, there were still VERY few people in that queue. I've come to believe taht most people who wander into Primark pick up a few things, barge around smacking into people, pick up more things, and then just dump everything and leave. It's the only thing that explains the cattle-marketesque shop floor and the hoardes of poor, morose shop floor attendants constantly folding, folding, folding. If I worked at Primark I'm sure I'd wake up most nights folding my knickers into pretty little swans.

I stumbled out, blinking into the sunlight. When you walk out you'd be forgiven for thinking you'd walked into a massacre, just for a second. The bodies of men litter the pavement, the steps. But wait, they're not dead, suicidal perhaps...but not dead, they are the Primark widowers, waiting outside, fruitlessly, for their other halves to appear with the coveted brown paper bag. Poor sods.

That was my Primark misadventure, there was no way I was waiting in line for the fitting room. I haven't tried on what I bought and it probably doesn't fit...but I don't care, I'm NEVER going back there!!

The funniest thing though must have been watching a group of boys trying on girls cardigans and arguing about who looked best in them. They left bemoaning that they'd have to go to Topshop and spend stupid money.

Anyone ever pointed you towards the mens section lads??

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