Tuesday, 11 December 2012

Frankincense, myrrh, and a silver-plated used teabag receptacle


There was a brilliant article in the Guardian by George Monbiout this morning — on the twelfth day of Christmas your gift will just be junk. Worth a look, it's in the environment section. It lead me to a youtube film by Annie Leonard, a sensible American woman who has spent ten years researching the chain of events involved in making 'stuff'. I've put it on my post-materialism blog if you would like to look at it. It's worth extracting twenty minutes of one's busy life to do so.
Why I was so pleased to find this eloquent rant was that sometimes I just feel alone in my own internal and external rantings about 'stuff'. I know I'm not, but well, I just do sometimes.
Here is a lovely picture of Tesco's with it's rakish little party hat on. I think I blogged about them last time I went to the UK, but the hat just made me want to lie down and scream. The forced cosy jollification of it...arrggggg. I had to go in here to buy my mum some vests as it was near the home, and I suddenly had a very tiny notion of what it must be like to experience agoraphobia and claustrophobia all at the same time. Festivephobia perhaps.
Father Christmas was closing in on me, 'Wizards', I wish it could be Christmas everyday' was a pounding sea in my ears, and people were buying turkeys manically even though it was only December the third. There were no vests that I could see, or at least no normal white ones, only glittery party wear and festive 'onesies'. By the way, I will never buy one of these. If I got into one as the weather started to turn cold, that would be it. I would not be able to get out of it again.
On another 'vest quest' the next day, I foraged in BHS. A happier result and I stood in the queue listening to people discussing whether they had got their decorations sorted out. And I felt the room closing in on me again. I could see, all around me racks of cheap jewellery, sale prices, even though we are not in January. Hello . . . no one wants this stuff, no one needs it. On the other side of the till were vast displays of merchandise to be bought on a festive whim and to be discarded in the first boot sale of the year in a freezing field. Huge china biscuit barrels in the shape of teddies, giant happy china depictions of 'licorice all sorts' man, metre long packets of Jaffa cakes, celebrity calendars by the truck load etc etc . . . I escaped with my two beige vests, and went for a walk on the promenade at Sandbanks, and looked at gulls, sea, sand and people walking not shopping.


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