The full moon was on the 7th, but either it was cloudy or I was deep, deep dreaming. Last night it seemed so bright that whatever I did I couldn’t avoid being woken by it. Some might say I should have pulled the curtains, and maybe so. But I didn’t: I opened the window, shoved my phone out and got this evocative—werewolf howling—snap.
This, of course, doesn’t obviate the need for shopping. One simply has to trudge and bear it—which is better than beering and staggering it, I suppose. And much, much better than Vodka and crawling. Me, I’d stone and float it if I had a choice, but I don’t. Waaay too long in the tooth for that sort of malarkey. Also, I don’t know anyone to turn me on. Sad, but true.
One thing that does turn me on and is totally without the need for a dealer (unless, that is, you count Murdoch’s Sky as a dealer), is F1. All the big teams (except Mercedes) have released their cars now, and all of them, except McLaren, have an ugly step down just after the monocoque and before the nose. Simply speaking the McLaren is beautiful and none of the others are: which is worrying. It’s worrying because I’m now thinking maybe McLaren have gone done a boo-boo. Maybe the hideous step is vital: after all, Red Bull have one, and they’re hardly slouchily slow. Oh dear. 😦
There are squirrels and birds of all wild varieties, and cats and wee snow beasties, too. Of course you can’t see them as it’s a still photograph, but they’re there.
And now. Now I have to go to the shops for to purchase comestibles of all sorts (which doesn’t mean liquorice all sorts, though it could if I happen to stumble across a packet). Pity me, for it’s cold and wet and bleak, and did I mention cold?
It’s just past 2:30am on the 5th February and it’s snowing!
I love snow. For the first few minutes it takes me back to my childhood and snowdays when school was cancelled and I could get wrapped up warm, go outside, thunder about building snow-men, get soaking wet and come back in to sit infront of a fire and have a hot bath. It’s good to get all snowed up and then, wuzzly warm, go to bed. And it’s especially good, nay, it’s the best, if it snows on Christmas eve: Christmas morning with fresh deep snow is wonderful! There’s nothiing like it. It’s special, magical, and produces wonderful memories.
So, I love snow … for the first few minutes. Then it becomes a pain in the arse. Plans change. Life changes, and quite possibly Swiss Buns double in price.
I blogged recently about supermarkets coming in, taking over, and forcing local shops out of business (crushing them financially). This ‘phenomenon’ is happening in every town—large and small—all over the country. Beware! If the supermarkets’ grand plan for world domination hasn’t affected you yet it soon will.
Above is yet another shop from the King’s Road (not the King’s Road in London) biting the dust. Not an orange, apple, potato, kiwi, or bunch of roses in sight: just bags of rubble. This shop has been like this for months. So sad, yet seemingly inevitable.
There has to be something we can do to fight the slow creep of this particular change. But what, I have no idea.
Like many other local shopping areas all over the country ours is slowly closing down as its life is leached away by the multi-national superstores.
When I first moved to the coast you could buy everything locally. There were two big supermarkets, one for each catchment area – and they weren’t close to each other. Now, there are six. Including a humongous 24 hours megastore. More recently Walmart arrived in the disguise of Asda and decimated another local borough.
And that isn’t including the smaller ‘local’ versions of the big supermarkets which are designed to inveigle themselves. They are pretty much everywhere.
Supermarkets arrive. They slash prices. Locals use them instead of using their local shops. Local shops go bust. Supermarkets put up their prices and there’s fuck all anyone can do because (QED) there is nowhere else left to shop.
Kings Road, St. Leonards is one such are. Here, shops are opening and closing pretty much on a weekly basis as shopkeepers trying desperately to survive fail. Generally there is a closing down sale followed by whitewash over the windows and a ‘to let’ sign. Then it starts all over again. It keeps the estate agents and solicitors in work, but it’s tears for everyone else.
The photo above is from a shop that has a nadge more je ne sais quoi. The papier-mâché lady in white doen’t pretend to be art (at least I don’t think it does), but it beats the whitewashed window approach. I wonder what will appear when the Lady goes? And I wonder how long, whatever it is, will last?
There are few things that put the fear of god in me. Drunken groups of oiks standing outside pubs at closing time; Chinese takeaway during an H1N1 outbreak; toothache; dirty bombs. You know, the kind of things that any sane person is terrified of. And, of course, then there is the ubiquitous ‘Engineering Works – take the bus’ signs at railway stations. There is nothing worse, especially if you have to travel. It is darkest nightmare become real.
Luckily, today I didn’t have to travel. Today I was on my way to the shop and spotted the sign. Then I saw a herd of poor people standing patiently, like zombies, waitng for a bus that probably wouldn’t arrive. Me, I took the picture and then danced up the road, giggling. I’m at home now. In the warm with the Cat, and a cup of coffee and a cake (that would have cost an arm and a leg at the station even had the buffet been open).
And as I write I’m thinking of those poor misguided people who are, probably, waiting still….