I finally finished my Christmas shopping on
Saturday. Yes, for this year. Yes, I know it was the 29th December.
Perhaps admitting to being a “last-minute person” was a bit optimistic. Would
you believe that I’m embracing the European tradition of celebrating on 6th
January? Maybe I could get away with calling my purchases Epiphany presents.
Whatever I call them, the relief at having bought them is enormous. {No, of
course they’re not actually wrapped yet.}
Having trudged round Hull for four hours on an
increasingly gloomy and wet afternoon, I was actually quite pleased with what
I’d bought. Or at least, I would have been pleased if I could have summoned up
any emotion apart from exhaustion.
With fingers numb and boots leaking, I made it up
the stairs in Waterstones just before closing, muttering “Give me coffee, or
give me death.” Fortunately, I managed to change that to “Large cappuccino to
take away please” by the time I reached the counter. Clutching my coffee in one
hand and my shopping in the other, I staggered off to the station, hoping that
there wouldn’t be anyone at the barrier. Just in case there was, I mentally
rehearsed the possible conversation:
Look at me – I have bags from Primark, a wild look
in my eyes, and a cup of coffee that I haven’t
started drinking yet. I am clearly going home, so of course I have a ticket! Why would I not
have bought a return, do you think I want to stay here? But it’s in my purse,
and I have no free hand to get it out. You can hold my shopping, or look in my
handbag yourself, I really don’t care, just please let me sit down!”
Thankfully, the gate was open, no station staff were around and, by the time
the ticket collector reached my seat, I’d finished my coffee and retrieved my
ticket, so all was well.
Next year I will be better organized. I really mean
it this time.
