Monday, August 30, 2010

ive had my eye on a bag for ages.

huge, waterproof and light blue with a fancy scribbly flower pattern all over it, at £20 it was a reasonable price but still something i needed to persuade myself i had worked hard enough for.

after my seventeen hour shift, i went to get it.

im not a fan of retail therapy, shopping gives me a headache and makes me feel drunk so i avoid it at all costs and in any case, every stupid purchase i make now could mean one less day living in canada next year... that is really what it boils down to.

however, this bag cheered me up. i have needed a decent one for ages and taking everything out of my old one which was falling apart and putting them into this shiny new one was the higlight of my sad little life for an entire day.

i can see how buying materialistic items works for people, but i am lucky enough to have a best friend who sends me beautiful letters which begin with things like "oh hello scarecrow" and follow with the sort of words which make you realise that even the paper they are written on and the ink they are written with really means nothing because something invisible and immeasurable exists which makes nothing hurt quite as much as it ought to.

i would sellotape everything from my bag onto my clothes for my best friend.


  1. It's taken, I don't know how long for me to recognise that shopping is as useless at determining my personality as is eating the entire Thortons box my aunt got me for my birthday. Give me twenty minutes on a bus to read, the corner of a café or the breaking of a a saucer at work to make me realise that I'm still here and I will be for a while.

    One another note - my friend and I were thinking of Scarecrows last week. We want kids to get involved with their local scarecrows now. Bizarre x x

  2. I hate shopping, except for stationery and French books.

  3. shopping is awful and recently i've stopped buying things altogether. we should write letters. i've already written one for you but it's somewhere unsent.