A cheap day at the sales

It's supposed to be so festive, such fun. But, with few exceptions, I hate shopping, especially when shops are crowded. Despite this, I feel obliged to visit the sales at least once. I think of it as an attempt to placate the god of the sales. Perhaps if I venture out once in the sales madness, I will be permitted to avoid busy shops for the whole of the coming year.

I didn't go to the sales on Boxing Day. That would have been excessive, especially since the trains  weren't running. I waited till the day after - the Saturday - and timidly made my way into town. Some of the timidity was caused by last night's snow. While it had turned to slush on some of the roads, elsewhere it had compacted into ice, and I didn't want to fall. The local council grits some of the roads but pedestrians are left to fend for themselves on icy pavements. After injuring my back in a fall a few years ago, I know just how dangerous they can be.

Perhaps the snow and ice had kept the shoppers away but the city centre was less crowded than on a normal Saturday. Even my favourite indie bookshop was quiet enough for conversation. (I said there were exceptions to my hatred of shopping. Browsing and buying books at a good indie bookshop is always a pleasure.) 

I tore myself away from the contemplation of poetry magazines and attempted some serious shopping. I could buy socks, I thought. Good, cheap socks are always useful. But I didn't want socks featuring robins or reindeer and there were no sensible warm socks on sale - at least, not in the three shops I entered.

Perhaps there was really nothing I needed, apart from a few groceries. The tomatoes were not in the sale but humus was on special offer. There was another opportunity for conversation too.

So I've done the sales. It wouldn't have been particularly special, apart from one thing. Waiting for the train I saw a white mist rising above the fence that separates the platform from people's gardens. At first I couldn't work out what it was. I went closer to see if it was a fire. It wasn't. The white mist was melting snow. I could see it dissolve into air and rise like smoke, all along the length of the fence.