In previous blogs i have mentioned my dislike of going clothes shopping. However, having been given a wodge of cash for this purpose from a doting relative, I set off for the big city to hit the January sales.
My only mistake was not to set off on my own. Spouse decided to accompany me. We would make a jolly day of it, have a spot of lunch with a glass of vino thrown in and maybe, have a little cultural excursion whilst we were there. It sounded like a plan and I agreed.
What was the matter with me? Had some kind of shopping amnesia come over me? It is never, ever a good idea to go shopping with him. Even he doesn't like going clothes shopping for himself, so why would he enjoy going with me? Why didn't we ask ourselves those very questions before we set out on this jaunt? Post-Christmas woolly thinking is the only reason I can come up with.
The journey passed harmoniously and we didn't even fight over the newspapers in our favourite coffee shop. It was all going so well ... until we hit the first department store. Take note dear reader, the very first store. This being early January all the sales were on and I was having a high old time cruising the rails of ladies clothing all marked 'sale'.
For the first time in a very long time I was actually finding clothes I wanted to buy. I'm not sure what that says about me, wanting to scoop up all the leftover raiment rejected by the rest of the female populace and I don't think I even want to go there, but that's all by the by. However, there I was mildly enjoying the experience and then ...
Yup. Old spouse-chops caused a ruckus. I had been so absorbed in gathering up said garments that I had not noticed the gathering of men at the periphery of the ladies clothing area. But a gathering there was and at the centre of it was none other than my spouse, enthusiastically holding forth and gesticulating wildly at a chair and the foregathered males were nodding in equally enthusiastic agreement. And headed towards them was a posse of security staff.
I stayed put. In fact, I cowered down behind a rail of clothes. Whatever he had been doing and if he was going to be given short shrift and thrown out for it, I didn't want to be thrown out too, not just yet. I hadn't finished cruising all the clothes and it was quite obviously my lucky day. If I was going to clad my back for the next twelve months in a passably stylish manner, then spouse must be thrown to the wolves.
Peeking out between the dresses I watched as Security, along with members of staff broke up the assembly of men and discreetly shepherded them towards the store exit. They went quietly enough, except of course, for spouse. Still gesticulating and arguing whatever point he was trying to make, he had to be thrown out and I found out afterwards, asked to kindly keep away for a while. Only I don't think these were quite the terms they employed.
Security staff loitered around the entrance for quite some time, watching spouse as he waited for me to come out. He had spotted me and with his nose flattened to white against the window was making faces at me and gesturing for me to come out there and join him. He pointed to the security staff and then himself and went through quite a pantomime in an effort to enlighten my ignorance of the situation.
What does a lady do? I ignored him and took my clothes to the pay desk. The Assistant had been watching spouse's antics with much amusement and asked me what it was all about.
'No idea', I said happily 'and I really don't care. I've shopped 'till I've dropped and he's that side of the door and I'm here. Perfect, just perfect. I've had no "how much?" when he sees the price of any item; no "can't we go now?" after the first five minutes and, best of all, I've loved every minute of it. He should get thrown out of shops regularly.'
When spouse and I were finally re-united on the outside of the store, it turned out that all he was doing - and I only have his word for this and I doubt it in its entirety - is that he, whilst I was in my delightful shopping bubble, he got tired of hanging about and found a chair to sit on. But he found it was a bit draughty there, as it was near the automatic doors and a they opened and closed every nano-second with the entrance of a new customer, he was getting very cold. So he stood up and went to look for a chair in a better site. Of course, he couldn't find one, so then he started talking to the other blokes who were also hanging about for their better halves and spouse led them back to the site of his draughty chair and the subsequent meeting of minds, (and I question that one too) ensued with the resultant chucking out of the store.
So my advice to all readers is this - don't take him shopping, but if you must or even if he is mad enough to volunteer to accompany you, tape his mouth up first.