My sore feet performed well enough today, wrapped in decent Umbro socks for protection, taking me to Star Vista in the middle of the day to do a bit of shopping to replenish supplies ahead of Noi's impending return on Friday. So nothing to complain about there. And the shopping centre itself was pleasant enough. They've put up one of those incongruously huge Christmas trees around their main entrance, but otherwise the decorations for the approaching season are reasonably restrained. And since I've got used to the tree being rolled out every November it wasn't too much of a shock to the system.
But the Christmas music in the Cold Storage supermarket was a step too far. It's 11 November, as the date above this post will confirm. It isn't the time to be musing on what Santa will bring, as one lyrically limited tune enjoined. Funnily enough I didn't recognise a single one of the songs played, which all sounded like something you might have heard in the USA of the 1960s. None of them worked in the November tropics.
It's the incongruity of it all that's doing my head in. (A colloquialism expressing an incisive degree of personal distress, for those unfamiliar with the term.)
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