Dear Buddha, please bring me a pony and a plastic rocket...

I have come to the conclusion that Christmas shopping is, in fact, just another level of hell! I set off to work this morning for a staff meeting and a cuppa with my colleagues. We were only in for half a day and before we went our separate ways we checked that the building was secure and not likely to burst into flames over the next week and a bit. I was feeling a bit peckish by the time we left so I thought I’d nip into MacDonald’s for a bit of scoff only to discover that it was packed full of people who had exactly the same idea as me, they could have had it a bit later but never mind. I gave up on the thought and set off in search of gifts for the missus. Oh dear, the town was heaving! First stop was W H Smiths, not for Trudes but to pick up my monthly Astro mags. Then the real horror struck as I wandered in and out of various girly type shops looking for the ideal thing for a girl. It’s not that I don’t like shopping; it’s more a case that I’m a bit of a misanthrope. I don’t have much time for the type of people you generally encounter. When I shop I tend to go in, get what I need and get out again. Admittedly this doesn’t always go to plan as I have a tendency to be somewhat forgetful. So I know that when I enter the maze of consumerism that is a supermarket I will become more than a little fretful as I run through the list of things I need to get. My stress levels are not helped by doddering old dears who have just met in the middle of the dairy aisle and are taking the chance to catch up on not having seen each other for the last three months. Not so bad except for the fact that they’re standing between their trolleys and blocking the entire section. Of course they can hear a five pound note hit the floor from five miles away, but when you say “excuse me” they both become as deaf as posts and seem to take up more room than before. Then there are the people who stop you to ask if you know where the cheese is, do I look like a member of staff? Finally the shops conspire against you, they move things, one day you find the bread near the bakery section, naturally, the next day it’s with the breakfast cereal. Leave it be, it’s getting to the stage where I’ll need a blooming sat-nav to find the stuff I want.

I read somewhere that it is the season of goodwill, this being the case, why are people so flipping miserable? I have a perfectly good excuse, I’m a grumpy old man, and I make no effort to hide the fact that a vast majority of the human race annoys me, particularly anyone younger than me and considerably older. When I pay for my stuff there isn’t so much as a smile, the checkout operator just crams your stuff in a bag and sends you on your way. Considering the fact that I am such a cantankerous old git, I still manage to muster up a bit of joviality.

Anyway the shopping is done and I have purchased presents and picked up a couple of bits that were needed for Sunday, so I can now relax and forget work for the next eleven days and focus on making sure that my sweet girl has a jolly time with our friends.

It’s a mad world made even more mad by the festive season!