Shopping

Last week to Kingston for a spot of clothes shopping, parking in the Rose car park, as usual. Checked that the fish were present at the north eastern corner of the bridge over the Hogsmill, which they were.

Then across the road into the Rose Theatre for a spot of coffee, tea and cake, falling for tickets for a production of Richard III on the way. A production featuring the star of Bridgerton, which I now know to be the successful costume drama series from Netflix described at reference 2. The snag with this being that we are not signed up with Netflix and Amazon Prime is presently the leading contender for our next streaming channel. Not least because the free postage on parcels that comes with it would represent a substantial discount on the nominal price.

Cake fine, and the tea inside the mug was OK, if a little strong, but I did not care for the mug. Decoration on mugs yes, but photographs no. For some reason I find them rather irritating. From where I associate to Miss. Marple's disdain for the the new-to-her custom of printing pictures on tea towels. A disdain which I share, the tea towels of my childhood being made of white linen with maybe the odd stripe top and bottom. The National Trust Shop had not then been invented and we had no pictures.

Plenty of small children running (or shuffling) around, on exit from some mother and toddler session.

We also had a fake tree, not scored as a fake because of the impressive way it managed to stand up in its ridiculously small pot. I don't suppose the pot is spiked into the sill, so maybe it is full of lead shot - which might just about do, provided no-one was thoughtless enough to touch the tree.

From the Rose to the market, where the Olivier bread stall was present, well stocked with both bread and customers, but our own bread baking had been rescheduled for the following day (Batch No.680) and so our own need had fallen away. First noticed at reference 3. Plenty of exotic fruit to be had, but very little in the way of green vegetables, with leeks being all that I could see.

The proper activity of the day started in a shoe shop, where BH took her time and I took my ease on one of the chairs provided. A shop where the staff were expected to stand, preferably to look busy, but they did not seem to mind my sitting. And I dare say older members of staff are glad enough to be able to sit down on their breaks.

A bit of Oxford Street east had come to Kingston.

Next to the upstairs of M&S, where I managed to find a vacant display stand to sit on while BH shopped. An upstairs where there were vibrations coming up through the floor.

Next to the upstairs of John Lewis, where I manged to find an empty style studio to sit in. I think the idea was that you booked a session with a personal style consultant, who could advise you on how best to spend your money.

I turned the pages of a promotional brochure from Creed perfumes, full of arty pictures and responsible for the tuberoses of reference 4. The book had no price marked and was probably not intended for sale. I convinced myself that a personal style consultant would have happily given me one for free, so in the absence of anyone to ask, taking one was OK. 

In the meantime, I wondered about the Photoshop trickery needed to produce the image above. There was also a piece about cruising in the Pacific on the Empress of Canada in the 1930's. I thought that this was probably not the same ship that I crossed the Atlantic on in the 1960's - at which time a week on a luxury liner cost about the same as an aeroplane making the same journey in half a day - probably stopping off at places like Prestwick and Gander. And how would you manage on such a ship going around Cape Horn? Or did it go the long way, around the Cape of Good Hope?

A fitting replacement for the similarly arty book I once owned about luxury shoes which someone borrowed and never returned.

I also found time to wonder about solar gain in the summer. Was it possible to rotate the flaps to shut out some of the sun?

Abandoning the studio, we headed for the cafeteria, taking in a go on a Peleton walking machine on the way, the two young people minding the shop managing to break off from intercourse with their telephones. At two or three thousand pounds, I decided that the machine was not for me. I did not got the hang of the accelerator and the thing kept running away with me, which was not good for my nerves. Much simpler just to go for a walk on dry land (as it were).

After lunch we headed off to do some real shopping in T.K. Maxx. None of the men's jackets in M&S and John Lewis had been suitable, all intended for those much younger than I. They all seemed to come without collars, with too many pockets or with lots of padding, none of which was what I wanted. 

But T.K. Maxx could offer a replica of the sort of windcheater which I wore when I was young, a replica called a reissue, carrying the logo of one Fred Perry and which I could have for slightly less than £100. Sold. It had even been made in England - and I think I preferred the red to the ruling khaki of old.

This morning I take a look at reference 6, but while I can find reissues, I can't find anything like this jacket. To be fair, I failed to work out how the site was organised, so it might well still be there, somewhere. But I did notice lots of discounting, which might be how this jacket wound up in T.K. Maxx.

Business done, we headed back to the car park, coming across this trolley on the way. But BH's body language suggested that it was not to be emptied and scored.

I might say that for a mid week lunchtime, Kingston had seemed to us to be in fairly good shape. There were plenty of shops and plenty of people. Maybe a shopping centre which is going to survive.

Among the large old houses on the Upper Brighton Road in Surbiton, we spotted one, not the one snapped above from Street View, that supported what appeared to be a semi-detached music room, ball room or conservatory. We must take a closer look on another occasion. In the meantime, we wonder about what sort of people would want such large houses these days. The maintenance and heating must be horrific. And it is not as if you can watch more than one television at a time.

The moon made its appearance as we passed through Chessington North, and it was still to be seen when we got home. Pale, waxing gibbous in the pale blue sky.

Wound up the proceedings with tea and seed cake, the like of which is not to be had in cake shops - although one did feature in the Bertram's Hotel episode of Miss. Marple on television. I am not sure which version, but possibly the Geraldine McEwan one.

References

Reference 1: http://www.afridiziak.com/.

Reference 2: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bridgerton.

Reference 3: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2023/02/southwark.html.

Reference 4: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2023/03/solidarity.html.

Reference 5: https://www.creedfragrances.co.uk/. But 'creed.com' is blocked to those without accounts.

Reference 6: https://www.fredperry.com/.