Yesterday, I went shopping for Dad. His primary care giver had rung the night before, to say that he'd broken his umpteenth electric razor, and we'd agreed that I'd buy him a new one and then give it into her keeping, rather than let him have it and demolish it again within the space of a day or two. Though getting a new razor proved not as easy as I first thought it was going to be, because my word! the choice is overwhelming! All I wanted was an appliance that could get rid of facial hair without hacking his face to ribbons, but there were several there that would do that and make coffee too! In the end, as I didn't want to appear too cheap, I opted for a mid-priced one -495 euros for a razor? They're having a laugh, aren't they?- in a nice soothing dark green colour, and then went to look for some comfy jogging suit bottoms. Dad likes wearing those around the house, and his old ones were starting to fall apart. There was a time when you could find them on any street market, but not no more -- Mum had been looking for them for weeks and not been able to spot any. I had no trouble finding really good quality Adidas, Reebok and Nike bottoms in the trendier sportswear sections of my favourite department stores, but I was on a budget, so had no choice but to turn my back on them and see if I couldn't find any cheap knock-offs somewhere else. I asked around and finally found myself at a discount store, which up until yesterday afternoon had remained a blessed terra incognita to me. I don't mind admitting that, when it comes to shopping, I'm a terrible snob. Ordinarily, I would rather die than be seen in such a place, and I'm sure I looked quite out of place there too, rummaging through their racks in my fur coat and designer shoes; but I got what I came for: 3 track suit bottoms at a measly 13 euros which wouldn't even have paid for the drawstring on the Puma one I'd seen earlier, so I threw in five pairs of socks and a couple of T-shirts as well, and took my haul over to Dad's. Who was thrilled by the razor and couldn't understand why I gave it to the nurse, and for the rest of my visit kept asking where his new razor had got to. "Didn't you bring me a new razor? Where did I put it?" "I gave it to the nurse for safekeeping, Dad" "Oh...Where's that new razor you brought me?" Other than that, he was mostly reliving the German air raid on Rotterdam in May 1940 again, when several aunts, uncles and cousins died. His father cried, he said, which scared him more than the bombs dropping down all around them.
I thought Mum needed cheering up, so I rang and asked her to come to the pictures with me. As she's a massive c&w fan, I proposed we go see Walk The Line with Joaquin Phoenix as Johnny Cash next weekend. Just now though, she called to say that my sister had had the same idea and had asked her to go see it this Wednesday, and that when she had told her that I'd already invited her, had said "but she doesn't even like c&w!" Erm...no, not as such, but...so now I've suddenly remembered a dentist appointment on Wednesday afternoon, and we'll be going to the matinee the three of us together.