There has to be something to take the edge off living in a country where 62 million people are shoehorned into a space roughly the size of NZ, where infrastructure hasn't kept pace with the population and accomplishing the smallest of things, such as getting an internet connection, can assume nightmarish proportions.
That something, my friends, is spending Saturday traipsing up and down the high street, soaking up the retail bling and filling one's wardrobe with absolute bargains. There is no reason for any man, woman or child to be badly dressed in this country because clothes are incredibly cheap, particularly now that Sale signs are dangling from every window.
Today, I joined the masses and patriotically did my bit to prevent the UK from sliding into what economists are euphemistically calling a 'double dip' recession.
Along with the usual suspects from Zara (my favourite shop on the planet), I found these black lace-up stunners for a whopping three pounds! And before you ask, no they weren't from nasty old Primark! How these delectable bits of leather and cotton can even be conjured up for that price is beyond me, but probably best to ignore all thoughts of little fingers toiling away in third-world sweatshops.
This country is turning me into Imelda Marcos.
That something, my friends, is spending Saturday traipsing up and down the high street, soaking up the retail bling and filling one's wardrobe with absolute bargains. There is no reason for any man, woman or child to be badly dressed in this country because clothes are incredibly cheap, particularly now that Sale signs are dangling from every window.
Today, I joined the masses and patriotically did my bit to prevent the UK from sliding into what economists are euphemistically calling a 'double dip' recession.
Along with the usual suspects from Zara (my favourite shop on the planet), I found these black lace-up stunners for a whopping three pounds! And before you ask, no they weren't from nasty old Primark! How these delectable bits of leather and cotton can even be conjured up for that price is beyond me, but probably best to ignore all thoughts of little fingers toiling away in third-world sweatshops.
This country is turning me into Imelda Marcos.
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