In our house the c word can mean any number of things (might I add I'm not actually talking about the c word, to write a whole blog about that might be a little bit weird), it ranges from camping, to Cliff house (my Grandpa's house) to finally Christmas. All of which are taboo words to my father who doesn't enjoy conversations about any of the above.
Usually any mention of a certain holy one's birthday before the first of December makes me feel down right depressed. I feel like I'm running out of time like the years come to the end already and it's only November! It also reminds what an excellent present buyer I am (I don't like to brag but ask anyone who's received a Martha gift and I'm sure they will concur) but this comes with it's down sides as a good present usually means a good amount of money, (and I have to say that around 50% of the time the favour is not usually returned.)
(crap present, get it?)
I also (despite my many similar personality traits to Miranda Hart) do not hold a glowing warm delightful air about me. I tend to be quite a cynical b**ch about the following: Valentines day, Anniversaries (any sort of couples related activity), children, Romantic comedies, pretty much anything that brings unadulterated joy into someones life. So Christmas, as you might have guessed is not my forte.
But dashing around the likes of Clifton and Bristol yesterday (this is just how last minute mt blog idea was this week), interviewing boutique owners for my guest posting I will be doing for someone else's blog (don't worry my little bunnies this will not affect Martha Thursday) I couldn't help but feel a little tingle and the corner of my lips turn up as I caught a glimpse of the Christmas windows.
It was like that Richmond sausage advert, (I hope people know what I'm talking about if not here's a link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pVjQOIdariU. It's like the Christmas window was my Richmond sausage and I was saying 'Stop the bah humbug!' (can i get away with this extremely far fetched comparison? seemed to make sense two minutes ago.) I saw my childhood flash before my eyes. My mum taking me to Daisy and Tom toy store every December to see the Christmas window display.
I remembered the wild desire that used to rush through my system every time I caught glimpse of an artificial rabbit spinning wildly on its mechanical pivot on a plastic ice rink. When the Grinch said 'maybe Christmas doesn't come from a store, maybe Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more', he obviously didn't know where to shop. Or perhaps I'm simply an even bigger Grinch than the Grinch himself.
(this could easily be me and my mother, she is the epitome of Cindy Lou who, who turns out to be Jenny from gossip girl! They kept that one quiet)
I realise I am writing this blog on the wrong week. I am going up to London this week which has a plethora of Christmas window displays but I am so lacking in ideas at the moment that you would have to wait an extra week for this and my blackberry camera isn't very good so your better off me google imaging anyway.
So here we are, gorgeous lovely shop windows for you to ooh and ahhh at, to wish you were the mannequin stood behind the glass and take that step into Christmas that both Elton John and the retail industry want you to take.
(Harrods, December 2009)
(Harrods, Peter Pan window display, December 2010)
(Selfridges London, December 2008, now where did they find a tube carriage?)
(Bloomingdale's December 2008)
('Dear Santa'- Macy's December 2009)
(Rob Ryan does shop windows December 2010)
(Merry Chanel)
(Tiffany&co December 2009, would highly recommend looking at the other windows of that year, really lovely!)
Hopefully Santa will have got my letter and by this time next week I won't be able to write any further blogs because either Francis or Jamie or Spencer (I don't care whoever really) from made in Chelsea will have fallen in love with me and I won't be returning from London.
Merry November
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