Lonely but Smiling Old Woman

I decided to commit to some of the madness today and buy some presents for Christmas. I had a list of people and by the side of their names I had written my feeble guess at what they might want, followed by question marks. Why is it so easy to buy something for my 16 year old niece and so difficult to buy something for my 21 year old nephew. For my own children, (they're not children any more, so we need another name. 'Grown up offspring' sounds odd and distancing), they just want money. 'Anything you see that you think you might buy for us, just put the same amount of money that you would have spent into an envelope and give it to us.' Oh well, if that's what they want...

In one shop I was debating with myself as to whether my sister-in -law, my brother's wife, who I really like, would want another necklace. It was lovely and the kind of thing she likes, but for a  third year running? As I dithered I became aware of someone standing quite near me. It was a woman in her, I think, seventies and she was thoroughly decked out for a winter's day; hat, scarf, gloves, furry coat. I looked directly into her eyes and she was smiling to an almost maniacal degree. She was carrying, with both hands, a white plastic washing basket, the likes of which Deirdre Barlow on Coronation Street is always clutching, except that in Deirdre's basket there is fake washing and in this basket was a large, white, fake dog, like a Dulux dog. As I said, it wasn't a real dog, but it might as well have been for all the affection she lavished on him. The elderly smiling woman asked me, 'Do you like him?' I said I did, I liked him very much and asked what his name was. 'Snowy, ' she said, with all the pride a new mother might feel, delighting in her newborn. 'He's lovely,' I said and she seemed thrilled. I stroked the dog for good measure and tried to continue my dithering. I couldn't escape yet. 'Do you want me to get you one? £3.99 from Chesterfield Market.' I turned down her kind offer.

I decided not to buy the necklace, and was slightly annoyed with myself  for considering giving the same gift to someone, three years running. I started to study soaps and cosmetics instead, but became mildly distracted by Snowy and his owner, in my peripheral vision. I was beginning to feel simultaneously irritated with her and sorry for her. I then began to feel annoyed with myself for not giving a few more minutes of my time to someone who was probably lonely. It feels too as if, at this time of year, the build up to Christmas, somebody's loneliness will be exacerbated as they see all the images of happy families coming together at Christmas. We are all, of course, bombarded with advertisements and made aware of how Christmas should be done, and all of us feel that we are falling short. It is especially difficult for women, who often are their own worst enemies, in that they think they have to replicate Heston, Delia or Nigella (maybe not Nigella just now) and put an inordinate amount of effort into the Christmas preparations.

So where does this leave the old woman and Snowy? I don't know, nor really do I want to know because it makes me feel uneasy and guilty. I have too much to do and can't take in every poor soul I meet.

Having at last escaped her, I saw that Snowy's owner was standing by the checkout, not in the queue, but by the side of the queue. Those people were looking directly ahead, ignoring Snowy in his washing basket kennel. Well of course they were - she's obviously nuts and noone has any time, because there are only twenty-four shopping days to Christmas.  

What have we become?