smell of pig shit, the annual county shows, the dazzling high street, but every once in a while it's nice to get away.
This little tale relates to the day me and Brooks went to Londiniam together, after two and a half hours on the train we arrived in the big city. As ever I felt that warm glow which I have come to associate with the presence of racialdiversity a foreign concept within the small confines of dorset. We took the tube (feeling ever so urban) to oxford circus and begun out gruelling slog around expanses of topshop. Brooks, in her blood boiling way, was hopelessly indecisive about whether to buy a frankly rather ordinary grey blazer, upon asking the cashier for advice, the following conversation insued:
Cashier: well you can always return it to your local topshop
Brooks: we don't really have one, we live outside London
Cashier: well then the topshop in the next town
Brooks: the closest ones about 2 hours away
Cashier: 2 hours!!!! TWO HOURS!!! but.... But
Brooks: yeah I know
Cashier: (verging on almost tearful pity) well that must be difficult.
That's right folks- article 231 of the Geneva convention of human rights: every human has the right to a topshop within a 20 mile radius.
TWO HOURS, I mean what sort of world are we living in!
Leister square
My highstreet at 7 o'clock on a Saturday evening
No comments:
Post a Comment