I know just the spot for it ...

I suppose it must be that time of year as, yet again, we found ourselves in Stratford this morning.

The main purpose of the trip were fittings for a couple of items of clothing and the collection of a large leather beanbag but we managed to find a pair of presents for 30% and also one for TP too. We also managed to get mildly squiffy on the free Prosecco offered at Jaeger. I generally tend not to drink until the sun is well over the yardarm but must admit that a large glass of pink, sparkling stuff at ten in the morning does tend to take the edge off the irritations of Christmas Shopping.

We also took a wander through the antiques stalls in the market and it was there that I spotted the must have item … at front and centre of one of the stalls was a small, vintage stuffed crocodile. Our eyes met across the crowded market and through a tightening throat I uttered the immortal words "I fucking love that". 30% looked horrified but before she could intervene I had committed to the purchase and money was changing hands. She did however manage to dissuade me from carrying the small reptile around the town and it was left for collection upon our return to the car.

We went about our business and eventually headed home. It was only as I was about to sit down to lunch that I realised that my beloved crocodile had been forgotten. It goes without saying that I lay all blame for this with 30% as there was no way that I could carry a large leather sack full of polystyrene beads, walk AND remember the earlier purchase of a taxidermied crocodilian. Fortunately we had the telephone number of a Stall Holder* on the same market who was more than happy to collect and hold the beast until we can collect him in a couple of weeks time.

The afternoon saw us totally ignore the threat made by the Dog Groomers and we took a walk around the Three Miler. It was filthy out there and Whiffler's lower half was covered in shite by the time we wandered back in to the house as the sun started to set.

If I am honest I really just wanted to spend the evening in front of the TV but we had promised to attend a show that had been put on by the local Am Dram group at the Village Hall. This rash promise had been made because TP had volunteered to work the lighting and sound console for the production and we felt that we should do the right thing. I'm not really sure how to sum up the evening so I will just stick with the lager was reasonably cold, at least I hadn't had to travel far** and I did manage to laugh in the right places … most of the time.

I also have a cold coming on.

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* The artisan leather worker who had constructed the fabulous leather beanbag that caused crocodilian amnesia in the first place.
** 400 yards