Thursday, July 05, 2012
True enough it had plenty to choose from, which was nice, but it had an odd feeling thought the place, the feeling of a wet flannel. Every visitor shuffled around as if they didn't want to be there but it was a place they thought they ought to go to because it would be nice. Couples, normally in their fifties and sixties, lifted up pots, tutted and placed them back down only to repeat this several times, others walked in groups having been shipped in en mass to aimlessly gaze into a middle distance at everything they looked at.
Even the staff looked strangely subdued and for a minute I wondered if we had stumbled across a garden centre that had received some strange pod like plants replicating an invasion of the bodysnatchers incident. I was tempted to poke a few people as I passed to test my theory but Jayne made me put the stick down and we strolled on.
No doubt visit the garden centre at the weekend and it's a different matter, buzzing with people aimlessly wandering through mountains of sweet peas and begonias accompanied by children pushing mini trolleys full of sunflowers. You get the picture, same situation just a generation downshift, you see, garden centres really are not my thing but then again neither is this...