Arctic Asda
29/12/05 22:00
The prospect of Sweden started to seep in for the second time when I found myself in Asda for the second time in 24 hours. My intent was to equip myself with some warm gear from George's heavily advertised ‘Sub-Arctic range.’ My first time had been less panicky as it was just over 12 hours before I had to catch the painfully early bus to London. The second time, the following day, was a mere 8 hours away from departure time and was slightly more panicky. It was also slightly more annoying because this second time around I was in full knowledge that I had missed my first intended flight the day before , also, because I knew that I quite clearly should have learnt an important, nay, brutal lesson in proper planning and time management.
I was comforted by the fact that I knew exactly which items I desired and my required size. I selected an acceptable, quite warm looking, navy blue, zip up top from the 12-13 year old teens section and tried it on for the second time. I wanted to make sure it hadn't been a rash, impulsive desire from the day before brought on by a state of increasing rashness and madness which was brought on by the information that a snow storm was encircling my landing airport. As I expected, it hadn't been, i'm a fussy shopper. I allowed myself a little internal laugh as I imagined the embarrassment that many British men would encounter in this situation. They would feel uncomfortable and inferior unless their clothes were clearly labelled "man" and their minds would probably be more at ease if it said "Normal Average Man" to appease their fears of inferiority. I imagined that their thoughts would go to what "other people would think" and "if it was weird." I started to imagine how Mark (peep show) would react in this situation but quickly abandoned as I knew it would take me at least 10 minutes to think of something worthy and my time was pressed. Instead I took another little laugh at how mundane and unadventurous people's lives can be that they could get so worked up over such trivial things and feel such embarrassment in case there are any "stigmas" attached to their actions.
As interesting as all these thoughts were, I now fully understand that due to such thought diversions in my usual life I often forget the task at hand and can appear clumsy and forgetful.....
the task at hand.....
Sweden...
Oh yes.....prospect of dying in sub-Arctic conditions due to a snow storm at a miniscule airport and possibly no transportation because only 2 airlines actually fly to such a small airport. Ah yes, that trivial matter. Gloves....gloves....the day before I had been very displeased at the fact that the only gloves available were attached to hats. The gloves were very thin and I didn't want a hat. True, I knew that I had no intention of paying for my items anyway therefore the cost factor didn't apply, but I would surely end up stealing the hat as well, thus, adding another pointless hat to my hat collection that only consists of pointless, unwearable hats. My least favourite being the one my mum gave me after her trip to France. A beanie with the Eiffel tower on it, embroidered with "Paris" in multi-coloured, fun lettering.You went to Paris, not me! I have never been to Paris. I believe that Nation States are made up notions, illusions and that cities are imaginary, arbitrary lines drawn onto maps. Two solid, concrete reasons why you're never gonna catch me wearing that hat. I also have a light, sick yellow one that has Rupert the bear on it. I think he has funky pants. It's too small for me though, therefore pointless.
I was about to walk off when I spotted a lone pair of solo gloves lying on the floor that were different from the ones on display. This was a clear sign and I collected my new gloves and took them for a quick spin round asda. I quickly ascertained that these were most probably the dropped gloves of a small, now cold, probably tearful child. Two things lead me to this conclusion:
1) The gloves only just fit over my smallish hands.
2) The right glove has a label that reads "Power Rangers Dino Thunder"
All that child could offer the gloves was food stains and saliva all over every finger hole from nervous,wet sucking and chewing. I offered Sweden. It was obvious why they chose me.
The prospect of Sweden started to seep in for the second time when I found myself in Asda for the second time in 24 hours. My intent was to equip myself with some warm gear from George's heavily advertised ‘Sub-Arctic range.’ My first time had been less panicky as it was just over 12 hours before I had to catch the painfully early bus to London. The second time, the following day, was a mere 8 hours away from departure time and was slightly more panicky. It was also slightly more annoying because this second time around I was in full knowledge that I had missed my first intended flight the day before , also, because I knew that I quite clearly should have learnt an important, nay, brutal lesson in proper planning and time management.
I was comforted by the fact that I knew exactly which items I desired and my required size. I selected an acceptable, quite warm looking, navy blue, zip up top from the 12-13 year old teens section and tried it on for the second time. I wanted to make sure it hadn't been a rash, impulsive desire from the day before brought on by a state of increasing rashness and madness which was brought on by the information that a snow storm was encircling my landing airport. As I expected, it hadn't been, i'm a fussy shopper. I allowed myself a little internal laugh as I imagined the embarrassment that many British men would encounter in this situation. They would feel uncomfortable and inferior unless their clothes were clearly labelled "man" and their minds would probably be more at ease if it said "Normal Average Man" to appease their fears of inferiority. I imagined that their thoughts would go to what "other people would think" and "if it was weird." I started to imagine how Mark (peep show) would react in this situation but quickly abandoned as I knew it would take me at least 10 minutes to think of something worthy and my time was pressed. Instead I took another little laugh at how mundane and unadventurous people's lives can be that they could get so worked up over such trivial things and feel such embarrassment in case there are any "stigmas" attached to their actions.
As interesting as all these thoughts were, I now fully understand that due to such thought diversions in my usual life I often forget the task at hand and can appear clumsy and forgetful.....
the task at hand.....
Sweden...
Oh yes.....prospect of dying in sub-Arctic conditions due to a snow storm at a miniscule airport and possibly no transportation because only 2 airlines actually fly to such a small airport. Ah yes, that trivial matter. Gloves....gloves....the day before I had been very displeased at the fact that the only gloves available were attached to hats. The gloves were very thin and I didn't want a hat. True, I knew that I had no intention of paying for my items anyway therefore the cost factor didn't apply, but I would surely end up stealing the hat as well, thus, adding another pointless hat to my hat collection that only consists of pointless, unwearable hats. My least favourite being the one my mum gave me after her trip to France. A beanie with the Eiffel tower on it, embroidered with "Paris" in multi-coloured, fun lettering.You went to Paris, not me! I have never been to Paris. I believe that Nation States are made up notions, illusions and that cities are imaginary, arbitrary lines drawn onto maps. Two solid, concrete reasons why you're never gonna catch me wearing that hat. I also have a light, sick yellow one that has Rupert the bear on it. I think he has funky pants. It's too small for me though, therefore pointless.
I was about to walk off when I spotted a lone pair of solo gloves lying on the floor that were different from the ones on display. This was a clear sign and I collected my new gloves and took them for a quick spin round asda. I quickly ascertained that these were most probably the dropped gloves of a small, now cold, probably tearful child. Two things lead me to this conclusion:
1) The gloves only just fit over my smallish hands.
2) The right glove has a label that reads "Power Rangers Dino Thunder"
All that child could offer the gloves was food stains and saliva all over every finger hole from nervous,wet sucking and chewing. I offered Sweden. It was obvious why they chose me.
posted by Swedophilia at 17:39
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home