shopping city terrors

So the old blog turned out to be a cleaning blog ... no wonder I abandoned it ... here's hoping this doesn't turn into a shopping blog ...

So its Easter Monday, which elsewhere in the civilised world means one thing ... SALES ... but here in Palmengrad, not so. You were hard pressed to find a cafe open. I having no food in the house and unable to express my identity through consumption since before Good Friday was planning on replacing those dear departed undies ... and some new shoes ... and something to read ...

But denied. All excited I left the house before nine, and headed into the ville, in time to see the bourgeois set up their Mercedes Benz club display ... Noting the shops were not yet ready for my perusal, I downed coffee ... and then another ... and then another ... I window shopped, I saw a great Maoist teapot set in a closing down sale, in a shop that couldn't be bothered opening up to close down ...

The bookshop opened. And had a sale ... on cookbooks. It was packed with ladies who lunch ... and probably don't cook. I came away empty handed after contemplating buying a replacement copy of Diski's skating to antarctica - the best autobiography slash travel writing I have ever read.

So empty handed was I, as I wandered home ... past the local Savemart ... not nearly as spectacular as the Wanganui effort. Still, a Pierre Cardin jersey for seven dollars ... that'll do nicely.