Ah yes, the traditional British mini-hell that is Christmas shopping. We take advantage of the
skiving bastard flexible working arrangements that I as a self-employed scumbag have, and do our normal weekly shop late on Thiusday afternoons. We've determined that is when the local supermarkets get as quiet as they are ever going to get. It works quite well normally. This week of course the Xmas fever had already bitten by last Thursday and the whole place was stacked to the gills with Christmas shoppers.
There is no way that I was going to brave the shops this weekend, with a mere 3-4 days remaining to Xmas; it'll be hell out there! We don't even have the distractions that ought to go with Christmas shopping as practised in more civilised countries. Consider Germany - every, and I mean every, Christmas market there has piping hot glühwein available immediately at the market entrance and usually there's at least one more stall somewhere where you can refortify yourself after you've fought your way into the depths of the market.
I've avoiding shopping hell this weekend by dint of doing my annual pre-Christmas tidy of the box room. This involves dragging out everything that has been hurled into the box room during the year into the living room, thus making enough space in the box room to actually get at the shelving and put things away in an orderly fashion. It's also necessary because my stash of wrapping paper is one of the things that becomes inaccessible as a result of a year's worth of "chuck it in the box room and forget about it". It has its up side, I regularly find things I'd lost or, better still, forgotten that I'd acquired. Alas there are no tasty bits of TEA floating to the surface as a consequence of this year's tidy.
Tomorrow I shall have to face retail frenzy again, as there are one or two things I still need before the Christ-apocalypse descends. Well, I assume that an apocalypse is pending, as every single trolley I've seen in the hands of others in the supermarkets suggests that they need enough food to survive Ragnarok. Guess I'll have to take my 'conversational' cutlery with me ...