Shopping

I really don't like shopping. I don't like any part of it. I occasionally like to go into a music shops and covet the spiffing new Ibanez guitars that I will never buy but the rest, keep it thankyou. Which is why, I use the female warrior, Amazon, so much. No queuing, no avoiding small kids who have escaped from their pushchairs, no waiting at the till whilst the clueless shop assistant tries to figure out why the bar code scanner is not working - try showing it the bar code moron. I know this may upset the female community but here's a question...would you a) prefer to drag me around being miserable while asking questions like "does my bum look big in this?" or b) me give you a stack of cash, piss off down the pub and meet up with you for a meal later?

So, having ascertained that I don't like shopping, have to fly back to the YUK for my son's birthday etc I decided to Amazon him some CD's. Great idea - don't have to carry things around the two airports, can't forget as it is already done and so on. Unfortunately, Amazon makes shopping a little too easy. When you're a regular it bypasses things like credit card details, delivery addreses etc and makes assumptions based on pattern. I wanted the CD's to go to an address in the YUK and the invoice/bill to come to the Spanish address. Imagine my horror this morning to be awoken by Postman Pedro burbling on about there being a package for me and could he just put it in the lift instead of coming up to deliver it. Si, si, si - whatever.

Bloody crikey! I screamed as I opened the lift door. One new delivery from Amazon. Now I was rattled - had I chuffed up? had Amazon chuffed up? Thankfully, it was Monsieur Legume, my friend in Bruxelles who had, under the influence of alcohol, had also been shopping on Amazon. Being slightly left of centre and remembering an e-mail discussion we had last week, ordered a TV series on DVD, a music CD (Tim Buckley - lovely :-) and The Little Book of Calm?!

Sales of this book are apparently 2,000,001 and rising. Rising by 1 for sure as I send a copy to an ex-cow-worker of mine back in the Sprout. He spends his days and nights scheduling flights so I had occassion to work with him whilst "fixing" their system. For 3 months I thought he was gay (granted, an idea based on the way he walks is not a clever way to determine someone's sexual proclivities) and then I found out, his walk was due to a very bad traffic accident. Take a bow Mr N - one Little Book of Calm on it's way matey (and get off that porn site).....little rascal.

Now, I think I have to go shopping - not because I want to but because my 'magic fridge' is not working properly. Always seems to work when she's here. Take some beers but it never runs out. Now she's not, the fridge has developed a mind of it's own - mainly in a state called empty. Reet chuffin great is that........not. Have to wait an hour or so though - daren't go out in the sun, might shrivel up and die or anything.

ala,
S