An early morning trip to a local shopping centre. The decorations gave away Christmas is on its way, but the lack of bustling shoppers made for a strange experience. It was hard to tell if we’re still in the Christmas shopping phoney war, or if everyone was shopping elsewhere, or if they were just having another half hour in bed.
On my lunchtime walk I came across two guys delivering Christmas trees. One was having a fag and drew attention to the whole enterprise by wearing a kilt and branded fleece. I guess he was the face of the operation. The other was sorting through the trees, getting the right one out. He wasn’t wearing a kilt. They have obviously discovered their niche. I wondered if they were Christmas tree growers all year, preparing for the big rush in December, or if they did something else from January to November before joining in the festive commerce. Either way I guess this sort of thing is big business now. It isn’t enough for a workplace to just send someone out to buy a tree and some decorations. It is now a professional enterprise.
A Christmas tree sat in one of those weird public private spaces. Or are they private public spaces? The sort of place you can wander into, but is essentially private land. It often replicates public space, is a square, or an avenue, or similar, but is in fact owned by someone. And that someone can ask you to leave at any time. It is only public on their terms, for as long as they want, and for whom they choose. The security guards are discreet, but ever-present. The even more discreet signs convey your rights, or lack thereof, within the space. By entering the space you agree to being stopped and searched etc etc. I wondered if someone would stop me taking the photo. I moved on before they had the chance.
The other day I found myself in Newcastle with a little time to kill, so made my way to Grainger Market. Read the rest of this entry »