One thing or a mother: Shopping away the decline into middle-age?

I think it’s fair to say I’ve always enjoyed shopping.
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From being a teenager looking for the perfect clubbing outfit in Pilot in the old Churchill Square in Brighton (remember that?), to now browsing the cardigan section in Montague Street’s H&M more often than I’d like to admit, I’ve always loved the thrill of buying new clothes.

And since lockdown started, I’ve also upped the ante online. It’s just so exciting when delivery drivers play hide and seek with my latest New Look haul, that I can’t resist it. I just wish they’d try to find a less smelly hiding spot for my parcels than inside my wheelie bin...

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(That said, I do like to replicate this game inside the house, to ensure my loving husband is none the wiser about the purchases – ‘What, this old jumper? No, I’ve had this for years...’)

A portion of this delicious stuff helped to end Katherine's day on a delicious cheesy high. Shutterstock image. SUS-201014-115649001A portion of this delicious stuff helped to end Katherine's day on a delicious cheesy high. Shutterstock image. SUS-201014-115649001
A portion of this delicious stuff helped to end Katherine's day on a delicious cheesy high. Shutterstock image. SUS-201014-115649001

I was plodding along happily like this, until we had some work done on our house (as I mentioned last week, I will definitely bore you with a whole column on this subject soon), and I suddenly needed to shop for homeware items.

It’s not going to be as exciting, I thought, but with a babysitter secured (my mum), and a sister on board for shopping support, we hit the shops of Chichester. How wrong I was...

Going into the cushion aisle in Home Sense, I was more excited than a kid in I Love Candy (or, indeed, my husband – he really rates their pick ’n’ mix!).

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I was grabbing armfuls of them, which was no mean feat and not especially practical, seeing as I only have two, two-seater sofas and I had picked out about 25 cushions.

Worried about the descent into middle-age, Katherine solved the problem by buying clothesWorried about the descent into middle-age, Katherine solved the problem by buying clothes
Worried about the descent into middle-age, Katherine solved the problem by buying clothes

Colour scheme eventually decided (grey and dark blush pink), I reluctantly relinquished any unnecessary soft furnishings.

Instead, I moved on to pick up some candles (they probably smell horrible, but it’s pretty hard to tell with a mask on), photo frames (how many months will they remain empty until I finally get round to printing off some pictures?), Champagne flutes (for the gatherings I won’t be having thanks to the rule of six – cheers, Covid), trinket thingies to go on shelves (£12 for a pot – shhhhhhh, don’t tell my husband) – it was just so much fun.

But after picking up a sensible cube storage unit for my son’s toys, and then eagerly heading towards a display of salad bowls in Dunelm, I realised my descent into fully fledged middle-agedness (not sure that’s a word?!) had gone too far.

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I needed to stop the decline before I found myself getting overly-enthusiastic about mobility aids and slippers.

There was only one thing for it, and that was to hit the familiar territory of some clothes shops.

One coat, one jumper, and some age-defying eye cream later (thought the reversal of the years might need a little extra help), and I was feeling better.

Less so, my bank account.

Before heading home, we thought it would be rude not to grab something to eat and help Chichester’s gastronomic economy.

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We found The Real Eating Company in North Street, and oh, my goodness, I’m still salivating at the memory of the home-made macaroni cheese they serve.

It no doubt contained more calories than my whole household is allowed in one day (probably not helped by a chocolate brownie chaser), but it was so, so delicious.

And so ended my day in the west of the county. Old, poor, but happily drunk on cheese.