Thursday 28th January 2010 - My Annual Retail Therapy Session

          The buying of the hat must have tripped some primitive, Scottish 'it's January clothes are cheap' switch.  For quite some time, I've been living in jeans.  This prevents me standing out.  Everybody in America wears jeans all the time.  I wouldn't be surprised to discover they all wear denim pyjamas.  Anyway, between jeans and tuxedo, I've got nothing to wear.  In addition, at least one of my shirts is only fit for meeting people I'm never going to see again.

          I ask Google to find me the nearest Macy's.  That's kind-of code for a shopping mall.  In fact, when I get there, it seems just to be Macy's.  They've actually got valet (Americans use the French pronunciation) parking.  Whatever gave them the idea I was going to spend that much?

          Everything is, indeed, in a sale, some things nearly half-price.  It doesn't take much to satisfy my mild retail lusts, so the event is soon over. 

          The gentleman's gentleman who has decided to help me through the event claims some Scottish ancestry.  I don't point out to him that nearly everyone in America does: the Scots who came here originally must really have put it about quite a bit.

 

          The afternoon is spent obsessively watching the Weather Channel.  I'm moving on tomorrow, and what they call a 'winter storm' is approaching.  American Weather is very predictable.  They can see the extent of the storm, which is presently closing down bits of Texas and most of Oklahoma, and the direction it is travelling in.  It's not so much a forecast as a description of the inevitable: only the timing is slightly open to question. 

          Apparently, these Winter Storms lay down a mass of snow in the middle, with heavy ice and rain on the periphery.  Almost all American power transmission is overhead, so the weight of ice brings down lots of lines, and even poles.  It must seem very malign to Americans: it not only freezes you, it cuts off your power as well.

 

          Later that night, it's a fancy mid-town bar, with lots of dead furry and feathered things stuck to the walls.  The service isn't very good, but the company is, which is what matters in a bar.  Anyway, I'm from the UK, I have very low standards when it comes to service.

          The place is showing its class by having golf on the TV.  It is replays of some T. Woods matches.  For months now, whenever I've seen any golf on TV it's usually been TW.  I think the media and fans are going through some grieving process and have got to the denial stage.

          One of the matches is from La Jolla, in California.  There is a Californian present: "La Hoya" actually.  No wonder the Spanish lost their empire, if they can't even spell.