Sack Race

The first weekend of December and the sack race is on, the one to fill as many Santa sacks as you can before teetering into bankruptcy.

Me and Mrs P headed for Stockport early doors, or 11am as it is on a Sunday. It would normally be Mrs P and her personal shopper, Miss P, but as the latter is having a whale of in Sheffield, I had to play Trinny to Mrs P’s Susannah. Or should that be the other way round.

We had expected to struggle to find a parking space, but this was a breeze. Also that we’d be fighting off the blood-maddened crowds with up-turned dining chairs, but it wasn’t so. In fact, it felt like a usual Sunday, ie crowded, but civilised.

As it was, we made a fair dent into the prezzie list over our four-hour sojourn. And I also picked up a few clues (hints) as to what Mrs P might expect from my direction come that holy morn.

You see, there is something to be said for paying attention. But then this particular sack race is a sprint, not a marathon.

Nobody’s prefect. If you find any spelling mistakes or other errors in this post, please let me know by highlighting the text and pressing Ctrl+Enter.

2 comments… Add yours
  • J.J 3rd December 2006

    I love your Christmas tree.

  • Shooting Parrots 4th December 2006

    I swear I got it free from this website but I can’t seem to find it again. You could right-click and copy the one here though.


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