January Sales (December, whatever)

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH back to work today, but that's okay because there is only me and the service manager in until Friday. This means three "pretend" work days and then a further four days off. Huzzah!

Yesterday rocked. Chris 'phoned and asked if I wanted to go to Cheshire Oaks, a place I should have known...but er...didn't. Mary insisted it was OMG fantastic, so came along, too. Tricked him into driving on the motorway for the first time ever, over the silvery Runcorn bridge and then...and then we got sort of lost. But we found it in the end!

Chris' nerves had gone with that evil lorry on the motorway, so he stopped for a cigarette. We needed to eat quickly because neither he nor Mary had eaten that day, so they dragged me to... Burger King. GAH! (Don't be triumphant, jaffacakequeen, I stuck to my guns and did not get anything from there.)

[/insert anti-capitalist Burger King rubbish rant here]

Anyway, the staff were the usual; surly, all of fifteen, with a scruffy manager no more than twenty-five years old. They made Mary wait for over twenty minutes, in which time an angry customer shouted at one of the workers (which I do not agree with. Grr.) Mary subsequently glared at him, then waited a further ten minutes. Chris and I didn't mind. The cutest Hermione-a-like, complete with bushy hair, big eyes and a cut-glass accent was talking to her mother nearby, whilst we ooed and awwed and totally wanted to kidnap her.

Mary eventually arrived at the table, only to realise that her chips were stone-cold. She stomped back up and changed them, by which time most of the customers were ready to kill after observing a yawning, tousled manager emerge from the back whilst two young members of staff threw water at each other in the back. Mary remarked that at least twelve of them were either "managers", "trainee managers" or "managers-in-waiting"

Chris: That one serving is a "service expert"-- whatever the hell that is.
Mary: She's the rudest of the lot.
Chris: "D'ya wanna move across now?" "Eeeh, don't tell me yer chips are cold, like!"
Becky: Now, now, Chris. You criticise when you're a service expert, with a certificate from
Burger King with a smiley face on it.
Mary: They're running around the kitchen! Throwing burgers!

Etc.

Anyway, onto the shopping. Cheshire Oaks is this: retail heaven (or hell), baby! The shop facades are based on Chester's striking oak houses with the distinctive black-and-white beams, and instead of the usual high street rubbish, it's all designer.

Designer usually makes my heart sink. I refuse to pay ridiculous amounts of money for rubbish Gap/Burberry/Calvin Klein clothes, but hey, the sales were on. Picked up a most splendid 60s-style summer shirt from Oasis for all of £5 and a beautiful black skirt from Ralph Lauren for £2.99. Bloody hell!

Then it was time to look for somewhere to eat, but after the pain of Burger King, we were not in the mood for TGI Friday's. Old Orleans was crowded. Chiquito was really loud and dude, I felt like sushi. We then found a Japanese place that did a buffet-style thing with sushi, tepanyaki, soup, rice, whatever for a somewhat reasonable £12.50.

Much sushi and drink later, we made our way back home. Got lost again. But none of this mattered; old European trash trance was playing on the radio; even the ugly oil refinery across the water glowed prettily in the night; my Ralph Lauren skirt is gorgeous. Oh, yes.