Where did the last week go? Now I have to embark on the second week before Christmas.
Somehow, the phrase, "the second week before Christmas" does not quite have the ring of, "the night before Christmas". It does not have a ring at all. Other than the ring of cash registers.
So far, I have avoided the shops. I have ordered online - how did I manage without the internet?
But, sometimes, there is no choice.
Out into the tropical heat I ventured, shorts and t-shirt - always feels strange to me that I should be cold, but I am not. I suppose I could increase the intensity of the aircon when I get home. Not a bad idea, as Christmas shopping in Singapore, seems to start earlier and earlier. As a friend who was visiting from India remarked, "I wondered what planet I had wandered on to."
There were some items I needed and had not found anything suitable online. Last year I had buried the Christmas door wreath after the red berries died my hands red. I had visions of waking in the middle of the night, rubbing my hands and mumbling, "out, out, damned spot.". For weeks afterwards, I looked out of my window, wondering whether the rain-foresty jungle trees opposite, would start marching across the road.
Luckily, no such thing occurred, which is just as well.
And, so, I found myself in an expensive expat shopping mall, staring at the florist's shop. I avoided eye gaze with the staff, I did not want to engage in conversation. My Scroogeness was in vast supply.
I espied one, simple, just twigs, leaves and red berries. No glitter, no cones, no anything else. In fact, it was so red, that it was more luminescent than old Rudolph's nose. That'll shock the neighbours.
Rather chuffed with my over-priced purchase, I meandered through the rest of the mall. Little artisanal and creative stores had set themselves up, or rather been set up by budding entrepreneurs, all vying to make a killing over the Christmas period.Ah, ha, thought I, some new Christmas lights, and little lights, just like those tiny Ikea jobbies that I bought for my Alt-tree. Before I could prevent myself, my hand reached for a box. Nonchalantly turning it over in my hand, I nearly choked. $84.
How can you charge $84 for a few wires and some LED lights? How can you charge that when Ikea only charged me $14.90? I had to then ponder if Ikea was using the illegal method of child labour, which I somehow doubted, they are Swedish after all. Then it struck me - I was in a glitzy over-priced expat shopping mall. Of course, lights would cost $84 or even $95 and some of them even more. My eyes watered. I coughed a little, picked up another box, pretended to weigh one against the other and then shook my head.
Face saved, I decided the best option was to slink away and be thankful I had Bah flipping Humbug, gone to the home of flatpack earlier.
