To Cheshire Oaks Shopping Outlet this afternoon. An unplanned visit as normally I wouldn’t dream of daring the Saturday afternoon shopping crowds, preferring to potter meekly around on a weekday. However this seemed to be the only window available in a packed teenage halfterm to see Black Swan. Oh, OK, I suppose so, I said; I quite like Natalie Portman. You can’t come in with us, Mum: there’s rude bits in it!
I remembered an episode of hideous embarrassment years ago, watching of Land of Fire (or something) with my dad and uncle. Five minutes in, several fur-clad cavemen ambushed half a dozen cavewomen as they squatted at the riverbank, and engaged in vigorous and non-consensual rear-entry sex. So I agreed, that, on balance, it would be much more comfortable for all of us if I sat quietly in Costa Coffee with a large Americano, a fattening cake and my book of the moment (Chris Mullin: A View from the Foothills, since you ask.)
Cheshire Oaks is actually much closer than I’d thought. It’s only 34 miles and 55 mins from our front door to the carpark, going via Queensferry. So it compares favourably with Chester or Shrewsbury for shopping, and of course you don’t have to pay to park. In the last year they’ve significantly increased the choice of places to eat, both around the Vue Cinema and in the shopping park. Last time I was pleased to see a Cafe Rouge, this time I spotted a Frankie and Jerry’s, TGIF, Chiquito’s and an M&S Simply Food - handy if you just want a sandwich in the car. And I have to say that, each time I visit, I’ve always had good, pleasant service in the shops.
Maybe the pleasant service is something to do with my forbidding 50-year-old demeanour. I’m afraid I frightened the nice girl in Costa. Well, she tried to toast my panettone and, being about 19, she moved so quickly, ripping off the cellophane in one practised yank and hurling it grillwards, even before I’d finished enunciating And a Large Americano Please, so I had to yelp: No! Don’t toast it! to make her stop. Are you sure? she said, eyeing me doubtfully. Yes, I’m sure, I said, and while you’re at it, don’t put any milk in my Americano. Thank You. When I got to my single seat by the window, I found I’d forgotten Chris Mullin. So I had to dig in my handbag for some lined paper (Of course I have writing paper in my handbag. I’m 51.) and bung down another fistful of deathless prose for that novel I’ve been writing for the last 5 years.
I don’t know. What with the panettone yelping and the lone writing-in-the-corner bit, I felt a bit conspicuous. Everyone else had a hot chocolate with all the toppings and a pink-down-clad moppet wanting the toilet. So I cut my Costa visit short and headed off to Next.
Next was rather demoralising, to be frank. Having been relieved to see the return of high-waisted jeans I was keen to invest in them – several pairs, if it would stave off the requirement for those terrifying rigidity knickers. Alas, the combination of several big buttons above a ridiculously short zip merely drew attention to my superfluous stomach. Retreating empty-handed through the formal wear, it occurred to me that maybe Next Forbidding Black with Those Geometric-Patterned Tops was not too old for me after all. In fact, some of the customers fingering the separates could give me 20 years.
Hurrah! Instantly I found black trousers – high waisted, flat-pocketed, long zips and hidden hooks instead of buttons! The fabric, mysteriously but maturely, “contained linen”. And they did them in camel colour too!! And only £20. I could have a pair in each colour.... Hugely excited I staggered back into the fitting rooms with All of the Colours in Both of the Sizes.... success! perfect fit at waist and hips – and then, on the all-important leg part, they blossomed into yards of canvas. I looked like Coco the Clown or one of the smaller vessels in Master and Commander.
And now it was 4.30 pm. Time to meet the girls. Maybe Marks and Spencer next time.