We’ve had an invasion of psychedelic gorillas, a parade of colourful elephants, the flight of the camp dragons and a husk of vivid hares, not mention the wacky ducks that paddle up the Wensum every year. Now big bugs are swarming all over our local shopping centre. And, really big buggers they are too, like extras from an old Hammer horror film. The kids love ’em. And who could resist the chance to clamber all over some poor giant ladybird minding her own business? With the relentless rise of online shopping, it’s a clever ploy to get parents off their computers and into the stores. Long live pester power.
There’s No Place Like Home
Christmas is a-Coming
I know it’s a-coming because the Christmas lights went on in Norwich last week, enthusiastically witnessed by thousands of over-wrought kids and their anxious carers. Pushy pushchairs and strident strollers took back the streets and our ankles became collateral damage. The good burghers of Norwich fired up City Hall with a row of giant exploding fountains, and rockets flew from the roof of Jarrolds, the well-groomed department store for the well-heeled. Here’s a taste…
Chapelfield Shopping Centre has also unveiled its glitzy seasonal offering, even turning the word ‘christmas’ into a verb – punters are ‘christmassing’ all over the shop. The meaning isn’t entirely clear but I’m guessing it’s about people spending money they don’t have on things people don’t need. It was ever thus. They’ve replaced the enormous melodic Christmas tree of yesteryear with something more modest. It’s chic but silent.
I rather miss the camper, older model belting out Yuletide tunes every thirty minutes though I’m guessing that sentiment wouldn’t be shared by the staff and patrons of the adjacent restaurants who’d have to put up with the racket.
After the fun came the fare. We squeezed through the crowd to grab some hot Spanish sausage. Exotic street food has really taken off round these parts and I’ve always been partial to a generous slice of Iberian spice. The chorizo ciabatta griddled with red piquillo peppers was divine. We finished off the evening in a local hostelry, the newly tarted-up Lamb Inn – no prams the size of a small hatchback, no tantrum-ing kids, no over-fussing parents. My kind of advent.
Walk a Mile in My Shoes
I’m a little tied up at the moment (said the the vicar to the dominatrix) with Turkey Street stuff so here’s something silly about shoes prompted by the giant heel currently kicked off in the concourse of our local shopping centre. Cinderella must be massive.
I still have my feet on the ground, I just wear better shoes.
Give a girl the right shoes, and she can conquer the world.
They went into my closets looking for skeletons, but thank God, all they found were shoes, beautiful shoes.
Because life’s a catwalk.
Clarks Shoes Ad Campaign
Our incomes are like our shoes; if too small, they gall and pinch us; but if too large, they cause us to stumble and to trip.
Camp as Christmas
What with all the glitter, tinsel and shiny balls, there’s nothing as camp as Christmas and there’s nothing camper than the Christmas tree outside Chapelfield Shopping Centre here in old Norwich. The flashing extravaganza is a symphony in lights and music, brightening up the low grey skies every thirty minutes throughout the day. So, ladies and gents, girls and boys, to brighten your day during the dull interlude between Christmas and New Year, I give you the climactic finale.