Christmas shopping

I'm doing rather well on the Christmas shopping front so far this year. And not just because I have completed a fair amount, but also because (given my dire financial situation - reconciling lifestyle and salary has elluded me for the last few months) I have managed to not pay full price for a single present.

It could just be me noticing for the first time, but I really don't think it is. Every high street shop seems to be offering some sort of discount. Our Christmas decorations, courtesy of Debenhams were 3 for 2 AND 10%. All department stores seem to be having weekends of 20% off, or matching the cheapest price elsewhere. Even smaller shops have discounts if you can be bothered to do a bit of hunting, or do day specific shopping (much easier if you finish work in central London by 2pm I know, but hey, I need some perks for the rubbish hours and low pay)

Online discount codes and free delivery has also helped me out, as has internet checking for the cheapest deals. All in all I'm feeling a little smug. And ready to totally NOT be frugal on my upcoming trip to New York City.

Countdown to Christmas: Shopping

My father hates shopping. And not just in the way that all men hate shopping - it actually makes him ill. Throughout our childhood, my sister and I used to dread the Saturday morning Sainsbury shop. By the time we had left the fruit and veg aisle, my father would be hyperventilating, and turning an interesting shade of red.

And then would get snappy, and then stressed, and then despairing. And when we finally got home, and realised that we had yet again forgotten to buy any toilet roll, he would go to bed for the rest of the day with a terrible migraine.

So on Saturday, the last one before Christmas, when my father (who is currently recovering from a very nasty chest infection) suggested that we might go Christmas shopping, my sister and I debated running for the hills. Especially when he added that so far he had bought nothing.

So at 8 am (and yes, we had told him that the shops don't open until at least 9) Lucy, my father, and I got the tube to the mecca of all Christmas shoppers - Oxford Circus. After breakfast at Cafe Nero (my father's favourite) and promises of coffee at Carluccios when he got tired (his ultimate, special treat favourite) we were off.

We hit the usual places - topshop, H&M, Accessorize, John Lewis, HMV, Selfridges, etc. And the closer to Marble Arch we got, the busier it was getting.

By 12, when we stopped for the promised Carluccios sit-down (my father had the thickest, most sickly looking hot chocolate, as did my sister) we did a count. And my father removed the tattered, crumpled, scrawled list of people and presents, and Lucy and I cross-referenced them with the bags, and HURRAH!!! In 3 hours, yes just 3, my father (with the extreme help of Lucy and I) had managed to get presents for 13 people. Relatively stress-free. He did however still need:

1. Anything for me

2. Something little for Luce

3. Anything for Jennie (aforementioned wife/step-mother)

4. Lots for Grandma

So there was still a way to go. So off we went - down Marylebone high street, and into Daunts. And straight back out again. Too busy. And so into the White Company. And straight back out again. And then my dear father turned to Luce and I and said "I'm going home", and that was that.

End of Mr Howe's Christmas shopping 2009.

I stayed in town until 6pm, picking up this and that, and finishing the majority of my father's slack. But I love to shop, and I love Christmas and so put them together, and I am at my peak.

A rite of passage

One of the brilliant things about having a job is

a) having money (at least theoretically)
b) having less free time to spend said money (ok, so not a great bonus, but you should see me with a bit of freetime... topshop ransacked in a day)

It makes me feel better that with my usual shift at work, due to starting at the godforsaken hour of 6am, my break is at 9am. Good time, as there are no shops open (at least no good ones, although saying that, I even managed to spend the best part of £20 in Boots last week).

This week, however, I am having a lunch break at the proper time for eating lunch - 1 until 2pm. And being based in the very central point of Leicester Square, I cannot avoid the delights of shopping. It's only an hour, I can't do much damage in an hour.

Oh yes I can.

Under the guise of getting the father a birthday present I've ventured out every lunchtime this week (don't actually need a guise - my father's list is so appalling that without browsing he will be getting only a card. His list consists of 2 items: Trips to fun and exotic places eg. The Ukraine, Blackpool, and secondly Books about fun and exotic places, eg. The Ukraine and Blackpool).

So three days into the week, and I have managed to buy myself 4 skirts (all black and of a similar style, but essential to my wardrobe - especially as a favourite northerner has "borrowed" my favourite black skirt, hence the necessity of replacements) and three dresses. I have also bought a pair of shoes, three pairs of novelty tights, a pair of earrings and three books.

By wednesday. This is not good.

And so today I reconciled myself to being a responsible adult. And I actually TOOK THINGS BACK!! It pained me. And I did actually snatch a skirt back from the assistant (it has layers of black lace, and is virtually completely different from most of my other skirts). And kept a dress (very practical - has given me an opportunity to wear my new gold belt) and the earrings (can't return those) and some tights (but those are really important, what with the onset of winter and all) and a book (need to keep the mind educated). But aside from that I took everything back.

I felt the need to share this. If only for the congratualtions I'm hoping to receive from fellow shopaholics. It really felt like a rite of passage.

I rewarded myself on the way home with a necklace. But at £7 , and with all the money I made by taking things back, I practically made money by getting it.