Cassie, Musings of a Cheshire Tart

When things get me down a bit I have a couple of ways of cheering myself up, the best and most effective way is to immerse myself in my work or in the absence of clients I’ll make a booty call to my f**kbuddy. If that fails I work out in a more conventional way at the gym and then relax in the spa.

Unfortunately in my current situation neither is possible, so the fallback plan comes into play. Shopping!

So I wander into Chester City Centre on a Saturday afternoon in July, which happens to also be a race day – fool, I hear you cry and you are so right!!!

The city is teeming, groups of tourists block street corners as they crowd around their guides, herds of foreign students jostle and trample over anyone who strays into their path and pushchairs or zimmer-frames seem to block every shop entrance or crush errand toes.

Worse still, the street vendors have discovered that no adolescent young male can resist the lure of a cheap vuvuzela. I suppose it is fitting that a noise reminiscent of a Rhinoceros mating call reverberates around the City, since Rhinomania* has descended upon Chester, but it has definitely put me off my latte and driven me away from my usual people watching bench.

In danger of being arrested for punching Spanish children and sodomising boys with instruments ideally shaped for this task, I flee the centre for the sanctuary of my cosy flat, a homebrewed latte and a tub of Baileys Ice Cream.

* more about Rhinomania in another post.