[ginger heart, blue icing; 2011]
But town was dispiriting on Friday. Clothes shops full of synthetic party-wear crackled as I walked past. Plastic toys in non-pastel colours made loud noises. Stacked shelves of gift sets signified mankind's primeval need for two soaps, some talcum powder and a lilac wash-mitt.
I don't want to buy the disposable junk; I want to inflict my taste upon future generations. "Oh yes, our Great Great Aunt Mise gave us that sturdy cushion. It's very nice. She says we're mentioned in her will."
So I decided to shop online instead. I have my credit card beside me here, and any minute now I'll type "present for my friend X and her lovely family" -"terrible tat" -"garish plastic" -"acrylic OR viscose OR polyester" +"exquisite" +"pass off as homemade" +"delivery to Ireland", and then I'll click on "I'm Feeling Lucky." I'm not Feeling Lucky, but one must put up a brave front.