Today, I went Christmas shopping in London for the first time. It was every bit as insane as I expected it to be. I bought a travelcard for the day. I went to Green Park first, home of Fortnum & Mason, the Ritz, and the chocolatier Prestat. F&M has everything priced at approximately triple its value. It's all beautifully packaged, though. At Prestat, on the other hand, you get what you pay for. It is there that you can buy the Napolean truffles mentioned in Roald Dahl's My Uncle Oswald, which is one of his few grown-up novels and is decidedly "adult" in content. I recommend both novel and chocolates.
I walked up Regent Street and stopped in at several of the shops (Molton Brown, Waterstone's). All the women on my gift list are thus accounted for. I had lunch at Selfridges (gee, I'm done, and I don't remember eating) and was stared at by the dyed-blonde orange people. I sipped my peppermint tea and firmly read my book at them. I have no use for orange people. If you are pasty-white, please learn to live with it. Fake tans inevitably turn you into an orange person.
I went back up to Camden, dropped off my loot and went back out to Covent Garden. I utterly failed to locate gifts for all but one of the tech guys that Marco works with. Why is it so difficult to buy gifts for men? I gave up and popped down to Victoria to drop off a gift for capitalflash and sparklepbass and quickly waved hello to a very busy Mary.
And now I'm home, and completely knackered. Someone bring me a cup of tea, please. Please?