Like most other American traditions such as Wal-Mart (cleverly disguised as Asda) Halloween hay rides and covering your entire house in Christmas lights to confuse low flying aircraft, we who have no reason to celebrate Thanksgiving are being exposed to the idea of Black Friday.
To us Brits Black Friday is traditionally the day Jesus was sent to the cross, giving his life to save humanity (from the original sin his father gave us in the first place - don't get me started on that shit) but anyone who browses Amazon looking for cheap DVDs will have seen the special deals this week.
A pre-Christmas chance to grab a bargain seems like a good idea (in these strapped economic times) until I read about the woman in America defending her discounted xbox with pepper spray. Twenty people were directly affected, including seven children.
I would like to think this is an isolated incident, one slightly unhinged woman who forgot to take her Citalopram that morning but I fear this may be a symptom of the growing hostility we have for our fellow human beings.
Don't get be wrong, I have occasionally stood at the crowded tills in my local supermarket and thought how much easier things would be if a dose of Captain Trips wiped out half the dithering idiots in my way. I once ran over a woman whose spacial awareness has deserted her (with a cumbersome pram not a car) but crowd control should be left to those who have received the appropriate training.
As for the xbox lady? Happy Holidays you f**king nutjob!
Sunday, 27 November 2011
Sunday, 20 November 2011
Children in Need Bake Sale
Chocolate chip shortbread
125g softened butter
55g caster sugar
180g plain flour
25g dark chocolate chips
Sunday, 13 November 2011
Another Year Wiser
Another year, another birthday.
As I creep slowly toward my mid-thirties I realise that I am aging quicker than I think. I have occassionally struck colleagues dumb with a pop culture reference from before they were born, or started a conversation with 'do you remember' to find that no one did. I often look at young women in the street and think 'did your mother let you go out dressed like that?' Last week called my phone a 'blueberry'.
Are these the actions of a vibrant young woman with her finger on the pulse? Am I suddenly out of touch with anyone under the age of twenty-five? I fear I am and yet I find the idea comforting.
I am a child of the eighties when there was no broadband streaming the answers into our homes. We did our homework the old fashioned way, by walking to the library, finding a book on the subject and paying 5p a sheet to photocopy it.
I bought CD singles at Woolworths, knowing by money counted toward something.
Today we have British Safety standards for side impact protection car seats for all children under thirteen. Back in my youth we had the wheel arches in the back of a Ford transit that you clung to with white knuckles while you avoided loose tools rolling at you on roundabouts.
We didn't have birthday parties at Krazy Kingdom, two hours of chicken nuggets and soft play. If you were lucky you got a lopsided homemade cake, a bag of chips and got to choose which video to rent that week.
We didn't have ethernet game consoles, wi-fi or apps. We had a Spectrum 64 with a tape deck and 'outside'. If you didn't want to play 'outside' you were given jobs to do like tidying your room, or topping and tailing a bucket of gooseberries. Heaven forbid you ever complained that you were bored. Being bored meant you were given a task that began with you putting your wellies on and fetching the wheelbarrow.
We had Sindy dolls, Star Wars figures and our imagination. When it rained (and it had to be bucketing otherwise you were given a cagoule and told 'it'll clear up') you had to play Connect Four on a towel on the kitchen table.
The highlight of the week was a Supermousse.
I look back on all these things with affection and hope that in some small degree I can bring to life these simple pleasures for my children. Sometimes we sit at the kitchen table and play dominoes, or play bagsy with the Argos catalogue not because it is all the entertainment we have, but because it's fun.
I am proud to be the age I am, otherwise look at what I might have missed.
As I creep slowly toward my mid-thirties I realise that I am aging quicker than I think. I have occassionally struck colleagues dumb with a pop culture reference from before they were born, or started a conversation with 'do you remember' to find that no one did. I often look at young women in the street and think 'did your mother let you go out dressed like that?' Last week called my phone a 'blueberry'.
Are these the actions of a vibrant young woman with her finger on the pulse? Am I suddenly out of touch with anyone under the age of twenty-five? I fear I am and yet I find the idea comforting.
I am a child of the eighties when there was no broadband streaming the answers into our homes. We did our homework the old fashioned way, by walking to the library, finding a book on the subject and paying 5p a sheet to photocopy it.
I bought CD singles at Woolworths, knowing by money counted toward something.
Today we have British Safety standards for side impact protection car seats for all children under thirteen. Back in my youth we had the wheel arches in the back of a Ford transit that you clung to with white knuckles while you avoided loose tools rolling at you on roundabouts.
We didn't have birthday parties at Krazy Kingdom, two hours of chicken nuggets and soft play. If you were lucky you got a lopsided homemade cake, a bag of chips and got to choose which video to rent that week.
We didn't have ethernet game consoles, wi-fi or apps. We had a Spectrum 64 with a tape deck and 'outside'. If you didn't want to play 'outside' you were given jobs to do like tidying your room, or topping and tailing a bucket of gooseberries. Heaven forbid you ever complained that you were bored. Being bored meant you were given a task that began with you putting your wellies on and fetching the wheelbarrow.
We had Sindy dolls, Star Wars figures and our imagination. When it rained (and it had to be bucketing otherwise you were given a cagoule and told 'it'll clear up') you had to play Connect Four on a towel on the kitchen table.
The highlight of the week was a Supermousse.
I look back on all these things with affection and hope that in some small degree I can bring to life these simple pleasures for my children. Sometimes we sit at the kitchen table and play dominoes, or play bagsy with the Argos catalogue not because it is all the entertainment we have, but because it's fun.
I am proud to be the age I am, otherwise look at what I might have missed.
Sunday, 6 November 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)