feeling listless

Christmas One of the highlights of each of my years is Christmas present shopping. In recent times, my employment situation has been such that I could dedicate weeks to finding all those presents. This year I have a week. This week. Or more exactly the past two days. And incredibly I seem to have managed it.

Yesterday, it was Cheshire Oaks, a retail outlet park in the next county. A haven for last seasons clothes, it’s also the only place on earth which has ten different kitchen utensil stores. In the men’s bathroom there are two framed articles from the local paper. One shows a visit to the area by The Queen, with a photo of her being shown around the ‘Bed and Baths’ shop. The other offers a slightly tired looking John Major on his soap box during the ill-fated 1997 election campaign being swamped by shoppers – convenient politics as well as convenient shopping then. The main draw of Cheshire Oaks is the chance to buy an unusual gift. For me, there is nothing worse than being able to trace a present back to its source, and retail outlets are a great way to combat this, even if there is too much temptation to start buying things for yourself.

[The only dark moment in the day was at the café where I was told that the sweat dry horrible cheese in my baguette was supposed to be like that. Err..OK…]

Today was spent in Chester. I always go to Chester at Christmas time – it’s as much of a tradition as having Christmas Tree -- its Victorian Christmas paradise they have on greetings cards. As with all other city centres, I’m slowly watching it’s uniqueness disappear, although here there is a slower rate of change, by virtue of the agreements between the local council and retailers. It’s a historical city, so the shop owners have to rebuild themselves to fit the architecture, not the other way around. It’s worth visiting in many ways just for the customer service. In Liverpool, you’ll go into a shop and the clerks will actually seem pissed off that you have the audacity to y’know buy things, and generally make you feel about two inches tall. In Chester, they love that you’re there and will offer any help you need – it smoothes the shopping process and you genuinely feel better when you leave a shop than when you went in.

[Although I would interject here to ponder what it is with ‘The Disney Store’, which has this bizarre ability to cheer me up. I’m sure they put something in the air. And what must it be like to be the one who stands at the door in that outfit saying hello and goodbye to the customers? I jumped out of skin the first time one of them spoke to me, and generally I have no idea what to say to them. A quick smile works sometimes, but it feels a bit artificial.]

So I’ve finished my Christmas shopping now. It’s November. What next? Oddly, I never seem to have difficulty find things people will like, or that they can use – it’s simply a case of listening and paying attention throughout the year. My mother is plagued by friends who give her presents which she’ll never use and is told that they never know what to get her – which considering how much she talks about life just shows how little some people pay attention to each other. My dad can be more difficult but I still seem to find something. The same goes for everyone else I buy presents for. It sort of annoys me that people would go out and buy somewhat generic presents for one another, making bee-lines for the ‘Perfect for Mom’ or ‘Perfect for Fathers’ sections of apartment stores, the latter always filled with golfing related products.

I always try to give an ‘ah-gosh present’ – something which will make them jump out of their skin – this doesn’t have to be because of the price – it could be something which is so personal, it’s keyed into a part of their psyche which they hadn’t even considered. Forever when I was younger, my Dad would talk at length, misty eyed about the original Eagle comic from the 1940s and 1950s enthralled by the adventures of Dan Dare. So one year I bought him a copy of that comic from when he would have been of the age in 1956, big colourful picture of a rocket on the cover. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he opened it. Which I think is the way I feel about Christmas. While it’s nice to get presents (of course) for me its about how I can make others feel.