Wednesday, 17 February 2010

Saint Valentin



I've just got back from a cheeky trip to Barnardo's with a carrier bag full of handknitted cardigans in an assortment of glittery and pastel wools and all with adorable plastic buttons. Each one cost a mere two pounds and so I am very loath to tear them from my own arms and list them on Etsy. One top will be though: a vintage 80s white sweater with a mint green lace 'neckerchief' so keep checking here for this particularly garment and many more. The Barnardo's in the University of Manchester shopping precinct is a neglected mine that needs tapping at least thrice weekly to snap up all the best bargains before they're rifled by less deserving hands. It also wins my utmost respect for having a £2 price limit policy on nearly all items, including coats (!) and thus avoids the faux pas committed primarily by Oxfam in ripping customers off. This may sound heartless but charging £6.99 for a rinsed out and warped five-year-old Primark t-shirt is not my definition of charity. The ideology of the thrift store is symbiotic: donated items are sold at a profit to benefit charity whilst relying on the requirement that less well-off people have for bargainous clothing, shoes, bedding and home furnishings. Of course there are bourgeois vintage scavengers thrown into the mix but by assuming that everyone is willing to pay through the nose for something that has very little real monetary value is a grave mistake...

In other news, I spent the weekend in London and only just returned late last night, surprisingly surviving the inundation of the carriage by hardcore Man City supporters at Stoke-On-Trent. (The fact that I was reading a novel went down particularly badly but at least I didn't make the impossibly foolish error of wearing a hat...) On Valentine's Day Jian Wei surprised me by taking me on the London Eye, complete with red rose and chocolates, which was wonderful and I enjoyed the view so much. This was followed by Bella Italia and a Bailey's coffee which cannot fail to arouse complete bliss. On Monday we went to see 'A Single Man', Tom Ford's adaptation of the Christopher Isherwood novel. Despiting being beautifully directed and more than aesthetically pleasing, who knew modernism could be so stylish?, we both left feeling utterly depressed and in morbid moods for the rest of the evening. This was exacerbated by the madness of, yet another, failed lasagne - this one mutilated by preboiled pasta sheets, which formed a glutinous starch brick in the pan, and had to be shredded by hand to form mosaic-like layers. Yesterday was spent reading in the lovely ambience provided by Foyle's Jazz Cafe in Clerkenwell followed by a leisurely stint in Oxford Street Topshop to come up with a rough draft of my impending staff uniform. Yes, I got a job at Topshop! I am deliriously happy and cannot wait to start. Nothing can be worse than running about Pizza Express like a scolded flea, single-handedly waiting on twenty tables on an understaffed shift, can it? Wish me luck, staff discount here I come...

So I'm back at Uni today and had two lectures this morning, punctuated with an hour in the warm and greasy decadence of Gemini cafe with Clare and Charukie and an interesting Belgian-American. Despite often being thrown by Professor Jeremy Tambling's deeply erratic and therefore, presumably, genius lectures on how crap the library is and why he wishes Napoleon had invaded Britain, I am really enjoying my modules so far this term. The big surprise seems to have come with the eagerly anticipated, yet pathologically feared, Creative Writing: Poetry course which is proving to be a lot more fun and lighthearted than I ever imagined. I might even start posting the assignments up here, week by week, for your collective reading pleasure -comments being welcomed, of course. Which reminds me that I should probably get printing the sixteen contributions of my class mates and get 'constructively' criticising...

2 comments:

  1. dulcieee...i love your blog, however those shoes will most certainly give you blisters in budapest, i remember similar problemos in paris....xxxxxxxxx

    ReplyDelete