Sponsored by
Who ever said shopping was easy?
SHOPPING. If it isn't a four-letter word then it should be. Especially when you've got your daughters with you in what was initially intended to be a special treat but in the end turned out to be a surreal form of torture.
The basic premise was this – I've been working a lot recently and, like every other parent in the country who spends too much time at work (if they've still got a job) and feels like they've been neglecting their children as a result, tried to make it up to them in the quickest and most fuss-free way imaginable – by blowing some cash on them while they still have some money in their pocket.
Sounds easy doesn't it? Pay off your guilt and buy their love with some shiny clothes and plastic tat.
First off we had to get the humdrum, run-of-the-mill stuff out of the way. Our nine-year-old daughter's school shirts and skirts had been beginning to resemble the wardrobe of the Incredible Hulk after he'd lost his temper.
Righto, should be a doddle. Down to BHS, into the school stuff section and you're away, right? Wrong. The pig-ignorant ignoramus that I am I thought all black skirts and white shirts were much of a muchness, but apparently if they don't fit like a made-to-measure Armani suit then they don't cut it.
So, of course she had to try them on. After we'd queued up for 10 minutes (what is this obsession the English have with bloody queueing? Why don't we just haughtily elbow our way to the front like the Italians or the French?) she got in the changing rooms, tried them on and 30 seconds later the shout of 'Yeah, they fit' came out and we were out of the place less than 60 seconds later.
Great. Success in the first shop. This is going to be a piece of cake I naively thought. How wrong can one man be in such a short space of time?
I'll tell you how wrong. Eleven shops later that were full of shelves and racks groaning with the sheer weight of clothes made for seven and nine-year-old girls and our youngest pipes up 'Dad. I don't like clothes. I like toys.'
So we jumped in the car and drove to that big toy shop next to Preston North End's ground (told you I was trying to buy them off) and let them loose around aisles and aisles and aisles of toys, games and stuff that makes your head spin when you're a kid.
As we walked through the automatic sliding doors, something my wife said to me just as we were leaving the house rang like one of those massive bells that toll from the top of German cathedrals. 'Whatever you do, don't come home with a cuddly toy. We've got dozens.'
Within 30 seconds of setting foot in the place our youngest had fallen in love with a two-foot-high pink horse that she could sit on. Well, she could just about sit on it because it was built with a three-year-old in mind and her knees were touching her ear lobes.
Then she pulled that face little girls pull when they want their dads to buy them something. 'It's speaking to me, dad,' she said as she batted her eyelashes and smiled the sweetest smile you've ever seen.
Remember the old Tom & Jerry cartoons when Tom gets a pang of conscience seconds before he's about to skewer Jerry with a pitch fork and an angel and a devil appear on each shoulder? Well my daughter was on one shoulder smiling and nodding and my wife on the other with her arms folded, tapping her foot, chewing the inside of her mouth and shaking her head from side to side very, very slowly.
How could I say no? But I did. It was a ridiculous looking thing and I knew I'd be living in the shed with the spiders high on Windowlene (them, not me) if we came home with it.
So I had to lift her off it and drag her away. For once our eldest was a doddle and she marched up to the Hannah Montana duvet cover and pillow case combo, clutched it to her chest and was away.
One hour and seven laps of the shop later we were ready to go. I'd been talked down from buying a cheap pink digital camera by my eldest daughter 'What, you're going to buy her a camera? It's not her birthday or Christmas. You'd better ring mum,' she spat incredulously. Phew, thanks love.
Eventually, despite repeated warnings to the contrary we were back in the stuffed toy section and we'd settled on a pink and white polar bear that she'd already christened Candy Floss.
By this time I'd had enough and just wanted to get out. So I bought it. And we left.
It must have been the strip lighting in there because before I knew what I was doing our kids were walking out of that sports shop owned by that bloke who's trying to sell the whole of Newcastle United for not much more than Man United have managed to screw out of Real Madrid for Cristiano Ronaldo with a pair of adidas trainers complete with three pink stripes under their arms.
Now I was 14 before I got my first pair of adidas (the entry-level) Kick and I thought I was in Run DMC. They do look cool in them though, they're a perfect fit and (school aside) haven't had them off their feet since.
Email to a friend
Print this page
Looking for...
Featured advertisers
Jobs
Search for a job
Motors
Search for a car
Property
Search for a house
Weather for Lancaster
Friday 10 February 2012
Today
Light rain
Temperature: -1 C to 3 C
Wind Speed: 22 mph
Wind direction: South east
Tomorrow
Cloudy
Temperature: 1 C to 2 C
Wind Speed: 10 mph
Wind direction: South east
