Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1068.

The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1068 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

---

I woke the next morning determined that Simon could have the pleasure of baby sitting. Julie would be there, she was still on sick leave from the salon, so he wouldn’t be on his own, Tom was about as well so between them they should be able to cope. The alternative was to place Trish in charge, but I wasn’t sure I wanted my own inadequacies as a housekeeper and parent shown up.

I had a reason for my subterfuge, Stella and I were going shopping in Southampton. She quickly warmed to the idea over an early breakfast, and we were gone practically before the others were awake.

I’d chosen Southampton because it had more of the particular shops I wanted to visit and because I knew I might be trying things on, I dressed accordingly, some fairly low court shoes, no stockings or tights, a wrap around skirt and a thin cotton top plus some of my nicer underwear.

After parking the car for the day–that was going to double the cost of my purchase–how can these car park people sleep at night? As the old joke goes, ‘At least Dick Turpin had the decency to wear a mask when he robbed you.’

Actually he was a thug who murdered several people including an old woman whose brains he dashed against a chimney breast because she wouldn’t tell him where her money was. He was hanged–just desserts in those days.

We then had to have a cup of coffee and a cake before we moved on to the main event–shopping. The latte was okay and the almond slice was nice but I needed to get stuck in or I’d give up. Stella grasped my elbow and we set off for our day of exploration.

In the first shop we tried, I thought the prices were far too high and the merchandise too fiddly for my taste–Stella muttered at me as we left.

“Look, Stella, even if I saw what I was looking for, I’d still want to see the other shops just in case they had something even nicer.”

“Or cheaper, knowing you. I can tell you were born in Scotland.”

“The price is important but not at the expense–no pun intended–of everything else. If I see what I want then we’ll look at the others and come back if nothing beats it.”

“So what are you looking for exactly?” she queried.

“I’ll tell you when I see it.”

“That really helps me to help you find it,” she muttered.

“Look, you’re here as a second opinion, for which I shall buy you a reasonable lunch.”

“Not a slap up meal then?”

“No, with me it’s simple bribery and poor luncheon.”

She groaned, obviously suitably impressed and we went on to the next shop.

“That would suit you,” she suggested pointing at a mannequin.

“It isn’t really what I wanted.”

“Never mind, try it on.”

“You serious?” I challenged.

“Absolutely.”

So I did, unfortunately they had a fourteen in stock, and I admit I was more impressed than I thought I’d be. But it wasn’t what I wanted. The trouble was I knew what I had in mind but I couldn’t describe it.

I tried on something else which I like better but she didn’t–I thought she had taste, perhaps I was wrong. Mind you it was a bit tight over the bum–so did it look big in this–yes it did. On to the next emporium.

Whoever says they really enjoy shopping, could be telling fibs. My little toes were getting sore, so I had to stop at a chemist’s shop and buy some blister plasters and stick them on my toes. It felt much better–my own stupid fault, wearing a tight shoe without stockings on a warm day. They were bound to rub.

Shop number three had some lovely stock but the only one I liked they didn’t have in my size, I did squeeze into a twelve which Stella liked, but I’d never be able to breathe in while wearing it.

Shop four had exactly what I wanted but not in my size–in fact they only had one and that was a poxy size ten, that’s okay if you’re an anorexic dwarf, but not for me. The woman offered to get me one in two weeks, but I declined for now.

The fifth shop was very disappointing and we went for some badly needed lunch and an even more needed rest for my sore toes. In a pub called the Duke of —ellington, which some vandal had removed the ‘W’, perhaps a jazz fan–we settled down to have, steak and ale pie with new potatoes and salad. Stella sipped a buck’s fizz, whilst I rehydrated with a lemonade and orange juice.

“Did you tell the others what you were looking for?” asked Stella.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’d have had at least five volunteers to help us and we’d have got nowhere fast.”

“We aren’t now are we?”

“We don’t appear to be do we–still we have at least four more shops to do.”

“But how can you possibly find something you can’t even recognise?”

“I shall recognise it, I just can’t describe it.”

“A fiver says you don’t.” Stella decided to try and call my perceived bluff.

“A tenner says I will, although I can’t guarantee they’ll have my size.”

“Fair enough, a tenner it is.” We shook hands and the bet was sealed.

The pie was okay, though I suspected I could make a better one myself–at least I didn’t have to cook it. We finished our drinks and set off for more shops.

In the next three, despite there being a huge selection, nothing took my eye. The fourth was actually closed when we got there–how frustrating. According to the notice, they closed at lunch time on Saturdays. Wonderful.

As we strolled back, I went in a charity shop, as much as anything to see if they had any shoes in my size as my toes were rubbed raw, even with the plasters. I found some hardly worn casuals and bought them on the spot.

“Seen this, Cathy?” Stella pointed to a dummy in the window. She was joking but as soon as I saw it, I knew it was the one.

“What size is that dress?” I asked pointing to it.

“A twelve I think, want to try it?”“If you don’t mind, I should.”

“Gi’me a couple of minutes.” The elderly lady cleared the window and pulled the dummy out, then proceeded to undress it and after some ten minutes, she passed me the dress. “Fittin’ room’s in the corner.”

Stella throughout this operation was sniggering quietly to herself–I could hear her in my mind–‘a charity shop’–she’d say in a voice which Dame Edith Evans would be pleased to produce as a Lady Bracknell character.

I struggled into the dress, it was big enough or would have been comfortably so if Stella hadn’t forced me to eat the profiteroles with cream. She practically made me eat them so she could have the lemon meringue.

“You alright in there m’dear?” asked the elderly shop assistant.

“Fine, thank you, the zip is harder to do up than I thought.”

“What size shoe are you?” she enquired as she pulled the zip up to the top of the neck.

“Six, why?”

“I think we have the originals to match it, hold on, I’ll look.”

I waited and could hear Stella tapping her heels as she got bored looking at the books. The old lady reappeared, “You’re in luck, they’re a six.” I slipped them on and they were so soft. I looked at myself in the mirror once more then stepped out into the shop, Stella was looking out of the window watching the traffic.

“Well–what do you think?”

“Sorry,” she muttered as she spun around. “Oh my giddy aunt–that’s it, Cathy–that is it.”

I agreed entirely, so I bought my wedding dress and shoes for twenty five quid. Next week, we would bring the girls and organise the bridesmaid’s dresses and order Danny’s kilt.