Holidays, Broken Men and Movies

A number of seemingly unrelated subjects in that title, there. Or so you might think. But in actual fact, I can assure you that they are all cunningly interrelated.

I shall start with the holidays. I am on my holidays. By that, I don't mean that I have been whisked away to a Carribean island for an exotic getaway, rather thant I have taken two weeks off work to do some stuff. Mostly, I might add, stuff that doesn't involve work. To be even more specific, it will mostly involve sleeping in. Now I know you're all jealous there and I can't really blame you for that, but what I can do is attempt to alleviate your envy of my current non-working status by pointing out that I have only take one full week of holiday so far, and that was waaaaay back in July.

Now, yesterday, the first official day of my holiday, I did nothing. At all. Well, that's clearly not true as it is impossible to do nothing without being dead. And even then one is kinda lying there, rotting, so one is even engaging in an activity, albeit a somewhat inactive one, post mortem. As it were. Well. My point is, that I was astonishingly lazy and watched a kung foo movie (House of Flying Daggers, which was very good, but before you ask is not the eponymous movie that you're on tenderhooks for), ate some stuff, watched more telly, played City of Heroes for a bit and then retired to my bed for some well deserved kip. So, in summation, I wrote a big long paragraph about how I did nothing of note, thereby wasting your time. Hah.

Today, I was far more active. After getting up and doing a spot of tidying and dishwashing, I watch some telly and then meandered my way out to Hell... er... The Mall at Cribbs Causeway. I know, I know, but it was a moment of insanity. I did of course regret it the moment I enetered the building. It was heaving. I only needed a couple of things - a new T-shirt or two and a duvet set for my lovely, lovely bed.

So there I was in The Mall. And so, it would seem, was the entire population of Great Britain. Honest. I counted them. In fact, you the reader, was the only person not present. It would seem that the Christmas shopping frenzy has already started, with the desperate hordes (I was gonna use the word 'mobs', but decided that 'hordes' was ever so slighty more derogatory) of people obeying their herd instinct to pay tribute to the false idol that is the Retail Sector. Er... I may have gone a little far with that description. I'm not sorry, though.

A number of things struck me:

Firstly, as always, the instant I stepped into the shopping centre proper, I suffered an unnatural thirst. This is because their air conditioning and dehumidifiers suck every last drop of moisture out of the air. I strongly believe that if they were to seall the entrances and exits, the moisture would be sucked out of the people inside at such a rate that they would instantaneously dehydrate into little piles of dust, just like in that batman movie in the 60s.

Secondly, the many TV screens attached to bit of the ceiling and walls and stuff were advertising the fact that Santa was coming to The Mall in just 5 days. 5 days? Add that to the fact thate the ceiling was plastered with shiny, shiny baubles and pretty lights, presumably to celebrate the Christmas Season. Its the beginning of November for God's sake, people. What's wrong with you? It's not just me that thinks this way. I heard this chap on the telly this morning. He's a bit nuts, but he has a point.

Thirdly (wait for it...) I was astonished by the number of defeated, broken men following their wives/girlfriends around the shops wearing expressions that suggested that the worst thing in the world had just happened (and that contrary to popular belief, it had not happened at sea) and laden like mules with bags and bags of useless tat in plastic bags while their so called 'better halves' were fannying around, unladen, I might add, looking at more usless tat with which they could burden their men. One in particular sticks in my mind - the poor sod was simultaneously pushing a pram and holding several bags with one hand whilst holding onto a horrible, misbehaving brat with the other. The Missus was flouncing along ahead of him, gaily having a nice chat with someone (either her mother or a member of her coven) on her mobile phone.



Makes me glad I'm single. Kinda. I miss the sex, though.

Anyway. Final bit coming up.

Went to the movies with the Stead this evening. Saw Sky High. The movie was ok, but the two kids who sat next to us and chatted their way through the film weren't. One of them kicked the Stead in the shin on the way out. He almost died on the spot, but I managed to restrain Stead's braining arm...