Festive Shopping

It’s hard to shake off the habits learned at your mother’s knee and other low joints. I am referring to the shopping habits back in the dark ages when Christmas and New year holidays meant closed shops with no Chinese or Asian stores on the High Streets opening to rescue anyone needing some vital article of shopping that had been forgotten.

This meant stocking up on shopping lest you should run short. With this ingrained in my memory it is hard to remember that it is always possible now in a city to find some shop open throughout the Festive period negating the need to overdo the shopping.

No, I have to stock up on food as if I was feeding an army rather than more or less just myself for the next fortnight. The patio dinner has been downgraded to mulled wine, soup in a mug, pigs in blankets and mince pies. Thereafter David and Luca will go home to their lovely new home and Porty Daughter and I will thaw out inside the Dower House and have some turkey, just the two of us.
So why have I got a fridge full to bursting with cranberry, jelly, bread sauce, gravy, Brussels sprouts , Christmas pudding not to mention all the other vegetables? It’s beyond comprehension. I suspect there will be doggy bags given out on Boxing Day.

My walk down the Mound this morning to shop for all the above food was in the darkness of one of the shortest days of the year. Although having put in some cardiovascular work in the gym rather too early this morning, I felt quite sprightly as I strode forth but with a rucksack and shopping bag full, it was a different story as I laboured back up the Mound. I almost ground to a halt.

When I recovered enough to walk and deliver cards near the Old Castle it was so good to bump into erstwhile neighbours and have a quick chat. That put a spring back into my step.