I Hate Shopping. Honest.

After a tough morning with the minxes, I decided to divide and conquer – when Mini Minx had her nap, I left Maxi Minx playing with new watercolour pencils and my old easel at home with The Boss, and took Midi Minx shopping with me.

Well, it wasn’t so much that I needed to go to the shops, more that I wanted to get away from The Boss before I literally brained him one. He was stretching his passive-aggressive mong muscles to a new degree, and I don’t have the energy or sympathy for that kind of behaviour when there’s children to be looked after instead. So off I went to hit the Next sale.

I hate shopping as a rule, but it’s always more fun with a daughter or 2 (but not with 3 – that’s just hellish). Midi was in a fun mood and decided to come over all girly, picking out clips and a very cute headband in the M&Co sale (attagirl…). She charmed the tailor who was taking up some trousers I’d gotten el-cheapo because they were over-long (even with the tailoring charge, they’d still be cheaper than buying my actual size). In fact, she charmed the tailor so much that we got his life story. Poor soul – before leaving, I recommended he stay with his elder sister in London and get her to look after him for a few days (!)

Midi spotted some red velvet/fake suede shoes in DE Shoes that I’d admired before. They were enormously tall platform shoes with a double red Mary Jane strap across the mid-foot, and only £19.99. Well, as they had them in a size 5 and Midi didn’t seem averse to waiting, I decided to try them on. While Gormless Girl went off to find the matching shoe of the pair, Hatchet-face Hag sniffed in my general direction, glowering down her purple-veined nose at me. I’ve have loved to know what she said snidely under her breath about me to her colleague (she curled her lip, her colleague sniggered, I pretended I’d neither noticed nor felt humiliated; all I heard was a “Watch her!” referring to me). I tried the shoes on and went to find a mirror. “It’s over there,” said Gormless. “Aye, if you can walk that far”, muttered the old bag. It absolutely galled me to admit defeat with a “No, they’re out of my league, I’m afraid” after 3 or 4 steps. I’d have loved to have trip-trapped over lightly to spite that auld witch. Instead, I took my money and my future custom as a parent of 3 desperate-to-be-shod girls elsewhere. After I pointed out that one shoe’s straps had holes while the other shoe had no holes in the straps. Big flaw. Ha! I don’t think Misery Guts’ assertion of, “Oh a cobbler can put holes in them” will wash with the shoes’ eventual buyer.

(Seriously, the service was so bad that I’m never shopping in DE Shoes again. I don’t care what sales they have on! I’m a responsible 40 year old mum of 3, not some fly-by-night, light-fingered 15 year old). 

The Next sale was rubbish, as reported originally on Saturday morning by The Boss. I got very grumpy about the external labels and hangars all proclaiming size 12, then when you actually waddled to the changing room with an armful and an easily-distracted toddler you discovered that the internal labels said every single size *except* 12. Grrrrrr.

I went to Tesco to buy Mini nappies, esp. as Huggies have a BOGOF offer. Every size except her size: no size 4s to be seen. And no nappy sacks either. Again. Double-grrr.

I still hate shopping – I can’t think why?

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