Shopping

I bloody hate shopping. But do you know, everytime I go shopping I think, this time it will be different. This time I will get that elusive 'thing' that will make me feel wonderful, make me a whole person and transform my life.
Well, sod that for a game of marbles. I return home each time a shadow of my former self; pale, drawn, and usually quite cross. I will have traipsed through ghastly shop floors with florescent lights, men's pants to the right and women's bras to the left. I mean, why put myself through such hell? I finally make it to a half decent shop only to find out that I don't want what I wanted hours before. I don't know why I don't want it. I just don't want it.
We went to Toys R us the other day. Toys R Us is a euphemism for This is Hell. Florescent lights beamed their evil light down on row after row of toy. Hassled and sad looking people poked about in the enormous piles of child entertainment, filling their trolleys with packets of this and bags of that. My children and I wandered down the rows, initially filled with excitement at all the choice. Soon we became bewildered by so much choice. Finally we became cross with so much choice. Then my daughter began to cry because she didn't know what she wanted. 'I don't know what to get, Mummy,' she sobbed.
Right. Enough.
This is where I can talk about the millions of starving people in the world. And there's me with my moaning children, not being able to choose a toy out of millions of toys.
Do you know, it is almost obscene how much choice, how MUCH we have. I feel ashamed of our wealth, in comparison. And I feel ashamed that I moan too, about not having a new car (ours are ancient but reliable, they have been ancient for years, they are positively Antique) or a new boiler (antique too) or a different TV (not antique but HUGE and HEAVY and not one of those that you can put behind a picture because they are so thin).
I yearn for new clothes that look svelte and trendy. I buy clothes and within days they look, well, old. I buy new kitchen Bling, as I call it, you know, shiny chrome things that do wonders for food or coffee. They just get boring after a day or two. But, oh, the promise of that box on the shelf, and the picture of fresh coffee/bread/sliced tomatoes... irresistible. And total crap when you get it home.
Shameful, really.
What's that commandment... I must not covet my neighbour's goods...?
I covet everything that everyone else has. Because everything looks FAB in other people's houses. And total bollocks in mine.
Oh, well. People like coming here. They say things like, 'But this is such a family home' and 'Oh! I love your photos/chickens/cake/coffee!' They come again. And again.
Did we buy anything from Toys R US? My daughter didn't and cried all the way home. My sons did and taunted my daughter all the way home. I was cross all the way home.
Will we go again? My children will all beg to go. And I will remind them of last time...
Of course we bloody will. Memories will fade and we will return.
Right. Must go. Got to go shopping. Am slave to it really. Got to get food, cat litter and new mat for car. Old mat has hole in it and I keep getting my foot stuck in it at traffic lights. Joy. Might have a quick look in M and S... they had some nice winter coats...