Friday, January 16, 2015
Remember how our upstairs neighbors moved out several months ago? Well, some new residents have moved in -- a man and at least one child, maybe two. I'm not sure the child(ren) live(s) there full-time. What I have noticed, however, is that we get more interesting noises in our flat -- furniture moving around and banging into things, heavy footfalls up and down the stairs, slamming doors. The last two nights, Dave and I were watching TV when suddenly a sound like a helicopter filled the room. I went to the front window to see if some large piece of machinery was rumbling down the street. Then we realized it's the neighbor's washing machine, on spin cycle!
Ah, well. Such are the joys of urban living in close quarters.
Yesterday I went down to Oxford Street on my lunch hour to pick up some socks and undershirts. I also wanted to just browse the clothes a bit and maybe get a scarf for Dave. I went to Debenham's, which was an ocean of colorless plaid. The only socks I could find were either for boots or were far too dressy. So I went down the street to John Lewis, where I found what I needed but wound up spending more than £100 on eight undershirts and four pairs of socks, which seems a little crazy.
I never did get a scarf for Dave, and I didn't see any other clothes that tempted me.
Clothes shopping does get harder as you get older, doesn't it? I feel like what's in the stores really isn't for me. It's for 25-year-olds who apparently want to recreate the grunge years of Nirvana (the band, not the state of enlightenment). This is why Dave orders everything online. I can kind of appreciate that.
I am an old man.
(Photos: Top, night in St. John's Wood. Bottom, a cute poster at school for an upcoming bake sale.)