It's probably a sad state of affairs when a trip to High Wycombe is overwhelming. But oh my, there were shops! Many of them! I was able to buy all the things on my list, and more besides. I now own a pot for storing coffee, so that when I stumble around before work in the morning, I won't scatter coffee straight from the packet, all over my kitchen. I used my work Christmas voucher to buy some hair dye, the aforementioned coffee pot, 5 pairs of socks, and some batteries for my bike lights, and it would have come to £13, but thanks to the voucher, I paid just £3!!!!!!!!
Simple things, simple minds. I was just thrilled that there were shops of the more affordable product variety. I went into Greggs and asked for a scone, purely because I know they'd pronounce scone to rhyme with cone, and I wanted to reassert my outsideness towards the south east in general. They had pound shops too. I know none of this is thrilling or unusual, but when you live in (officially) the poshest village in the UK, it's a fantastic novelty to buy stuff from shops and not to feel like you've been robbed.
I got chatting to a man dressed as Big Bird while I was waiting for my bus. He described Gerrards Cross as 'quite far north'. He was from South London. Bless. Still, he's another one going against the stereotype of unfriendly southerners. I'm getting over this prejudice.
I'm not looking forward to next week much (see Secret Locked Post, ye lucky few!) and am trying not to let it spoil my weekend. My crazy parents are coming over next Sunday and staying over in order to get me internets (I've given up on my ongoing battle with BT to come over on a weekend, but I'm not booking one of my precious days off work so I can sit around the house all day waiting for the engineer). It will be nice to see them, I reckon. I wish I could go home more often. I'm going to have to learn how to drive.