A trip to the city with her daughter was part of the mid-term plans for our columnist … but going shop to shop isn’t quite how she remembers it!
• FOR one reason or another, I found myself in Cork city centre shortly after 9am last Monday morning.
Actually, I know exactly why I was there – we had a day off school and ages back I had casually mentioned that we might (as in perhaps, possibly, maybe, let’s see how we’re feeling on the day, who knows what’s going to happen, let’s play it by ear, etc) take a trip to Cork for a little look around the shops, or just a coffee and a bun.
There was nothing set in stone except ... that my daughter took it as completely set in stone and non-negotiable so there we were bang in the middle of Patrick Street at 9.01am.
Now, once upon a time, this would have made me very happy indeed. Shopping used to be one of most favourite things to do, and I was good at it, too. I could do a sweep of a store in record time, pick out the hits and misses, and move on as if it was a military operation. At some stage, though, I seem to have turned into that person who trails annoyingly behind the person who likes to shop (my daughter), or worse still, the grouch who hovers at the entrance looking like they’re in hell.
• I think there’s two reasons for my change of attitude. Firstly, I simply don’t need any more ‘stuff’ in my life. I’m good for bowls, bags and all other bits ‘n’ bobs. I can, I admit, be tempted by a nice candle, fancy hand soap, scented diffuser, or a room spray but besides that I shop purely on a needs basis and have fallen out of the habit of browsing. I don’t see the point.
There’s also the fact that I can’t handle clutter. I read some place once that there’s a direct relationship between a woman’s humour (ie if she’s going bats*** crazy or not) and clutter and I can vouch for that. Some might find my living quarters a little forensic, but I prefer to call it minimal. You say tomato etc.
Now, I also abhor waste, and that’s another factor, as I just don’t see the need for multiples of anything, no matter how lovely it is, if the original is already in working order – so the idea of having, say, three pairs of runners or four handbags makes me wildly uncomfortable.
When I see influencers posting photos of their walk-in wardrobes with rows and rows of identical looking black boots or nude heels I start to get really stressed. Odd? Me? Absolutely.
• The other thing is that I never see anything remotely appealing in shops these days. Why oh why does everything have to be cropped? I get my steps in as best I can but a little bit of bum and tum coverage is surely not too much to ask for, is it?
Oh, and finally, I also find that I really need to build a connection with an item before I purchase it – sure otherwise, it’s like letting a stranger into your house! Even if it’s a simple cup, I need to think about it, decide if I really love it, if it moves me, sparks joy, if we’ll go the distance ... and usually by then, someone else has snapped it up. Ah well.
Anyway, it seems that I’m very much in the minority as last Monday morning swarms of people surrounded me in every shop we went into weighed down with bags of ‘stuff’. They couldn’t get enough and even if I wasn’t partaking, it was still an interesting spectator sport. From my limited research, I can report that fleece jackets and fluffy pyjamas were flying off the shelves and it was at least 15 degrees outside. Bonkers stuff!
• Mind you, one thing I didn’t mind shopping for was a new mobile phone operator. Since we moved into our house seven years ago the phone coverage has been patchy and for the last year and a bit, it’s been extremely patchy.
Of particular annoyance is that I had no reception in the home office. The phone would ring alright but if I answered it, the call would drop instantly. That meant I’d have to sprint to the kitchen to answer before it rang out (if I’m in fluffy socks I can sort of skate down the hall and do it in an impressive six seconds), then remain absolutely static in one particular spot to talk. That sometimes worked, other times it didn’t.
My other option was to take calls in the driveway where I sometimes had reception, so I’d park the car in ‘the good spot,’ hop in to make my calls and hope for the best. Again all very hit and miss, and all very frustrating as you can imagine.
It was especially annoying when my sister would signal she had a free five minutes to listen to my indulgent rants about whatever was irking me on a particular day, so naturally I’d buzz her instantly, pour out my heart and soul, and she’d be like ‘I didn’t catch any of that now, sorry ... you’re going mad why? She said what? No, you’re gone again there now, are you there ... ?’ It was devastating stuff.
Most annoying of all was that usually I could hear the other person but they couldn’t hear me so there was lots of ‘Hello? Can you hear me?’ head melting. But anyway, I was hearing great things about a particular provider and I switched and, wait for it ... I can now make a phone call from my desk or anywhere in the house. This has been life-changing. My steps are down but so is my blood pressure and that’s something no money
can buy!
