cord and confessions

For some time now I've been ignoring an irksome niggle at the back of my head but it's become too loud and I'm having to come out of the closet and confront who I really am. I don't like shopping. I don't know how this happened to me but I really truly don't. Maybe this should be confined to 'high street shopping' where I feel overwhelmed and self conscious and overheated. Meandering though the rails in a second hand shop to a soundtrack most likely to consist of Waterloo Sunset by the Kinks (over time I've noticed it seems to be a Generic Vintage Shop Favourite) really isn't so bad and if you throw into the equation an undercrowded shopfloor and maybe a couple of fellow customers in inspiring get-ups and strategically placed coffee/cake breaks it can be a very joyful experience but otherwise I'd sooner stay at home and do it online with a plate of cheese on toast at my elbow.

I would wonder what was going through my mind when I thought a visit to the Arndale centre on a Saturday for a spot of lunchtime shopping a good idea but clearly my 'hate shopping' policy wasn't cemented when I woke up today. Although I was unsuccessful in finding the Navy 420 New Balance trainers I'd been after, I must award recognition to Topshop as I came across this gem of a button down cord skirt in a rusty colour which acted as the silver lining to the whole experience. 

Note the slightly eery low-light pictures of said skirt which I took while babysitting earlier. Yes, I am 19 and I still babysit. I have run this by friends to check that it's still legit. The conversation usually follows this template: 'Guys, is there an age in which it will be unacceptable for me to babysit? Or did it pass when I turned 15 and no one was polite enough to say?' The general consensus is usually 'dude, hold onto that biscuit tin and tv remote rourine for as long as possible, I'm jealous.' and I must admit that I love babysitting and in a Peter Pan way hope I never grow up just so I may continue. Luckily some friends of my Dad live in Manchester so I may watch Robin Hood (the Disney version with it's soundtrack to end all Disney soundtracks) with their 4 year old and leaf through the books in their cosy house. And escape grubby student kitchens for a few precious hours. Bliss.

And now to Edwyn Collins who has filled my brain with this tune all day: