To Shop is To Do

I often ponder the difference between the ways that women and men view shopping. I have come to the conclusion that for women, ‘shop’ is a verb; we shop, we take time over the activity and we may or may not end up with something – whether we needed it or not. For most men I think that ‘shop’ is a noun. The shop is there to get what you want and then you buy it and go home.

For this reason, my husband never accompanies us on our Nice Under Glass trips if we are going anywhere near shops. It is no matter, men in shops flap around and get in the way like fish at the bottom of a wardrobe. But for the grannies and me, pottering around a good shop or two, is a pleasure. As autumn draws in and Christmas beckons shopping becomes a richer experience.

This of course is not just on Sundays. As Jo and Peggy get older shopping is one of their main reasons for getting out of the house and having a need for something - be it a loaf of bread or a pint of milk - is a good excuse. Mum sometimes tells me forlornly that she went to town, ‘but I didn’t really want anything’. Peggy often only goes to meet with her friend and not shop as she can’t carry things home.

But living through a World War means that the elderly have a loathing of wasting anything and are probably more careful shoppers than my generation. So it not often that we actually purchase anything on our Sunday afternoons. No, the shopping we do is all in the eye, but it is still shopping to my mind. What we do is what I think of as like extreme window shopping. We look, we ask, we feel we even try on… but we rarely buy. But it is none the less pleasurable for that.

There are days when only a bit of shopping will do. When we have spent a few of our Sunday afternoons doing worthy walks and cultural activities like a visit to the local National Trust or  lazily sitting in the car letting tarmac fly by beneath us viewing the beauty of the countryside, then a 'bit of a shop' is just what we need. It's also quite a good place to go if it’s raining.

We check our handbags for our bags for life and we're all set to go. If I've been organised I have told them in advance and the grannies are armed with their lists for the final visit to a supermarket (as food shopping is quite different).

Ready to shop:
Peggy & Mum at Eagles Meadow

A short easy drive along the A55 is Broughton Retail Park which has the somewhat perfect design of a large car park surrounded by shops. The Fontanella café in Tesco at Broughton holds the record for the cheapest cup of tea – just £1 – it’s in a pot too.There is also Eagles Meadow in Wrexham which has an M&S and many opportunities for a cup of tea, but the car park is very expensive.

So another afternoon comes to a close and we reflect on the things we have seen. We often pretend that we will buy a particular item 'next time', but the unspoken thought probably passes through all our minds.... shopping is just another very interesting walk.

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Erddig's Place in a Child's Memories

....and the band played on...
Erddig's Apple Festival Oct 2014

The large country house and its surrounding estate, Erddig Hall served as a backdrop for many of us growing up in the town. My generation knew it when it was in a state of sad decline in the 1960s. This once grand house was cracked and literally falling down around the ears of its last owner, Philip Yorke. My impression had always been that he had a sad end to his life – living his days in one tiny back room with a black & white TV surrounded by the remnants of the former glory days of the house.

However, this was not the case, as the facts (unknown to me at the time) have emerged as I research this piece. Philip, as the last surviving Yorke, had actually started negotiations with the National Trust to hand it over to them in the 70s and, restored, it opened to the public in 1977 just a year before Philip died – so he lived to see the wonderful transformation begin. Now it is one of the jewels in the National Trust’s crown, illustrating perfectly the relationship between the servants and the family down the ages. It has a fascinating array of pictures, antique furniture and soft furnishings and extensive well-maintained gardens and grounds.

But as a child who lived nearby in the 1970s for me, it always felt like a somewhat hellish place. Rumours of the eerie ‘cup & saucer’ being haunted by a child who once drowned (untrue I think) there cowed my childish imagination, not helped by the muted banging which could sometimes be heard nearby. The river sometimes ran blood red. Add to this memories of a bloody afternoon when my middle sister, (always the one to get into scrapes) gashed her foot on glass in the river when we had trespassed there for a picnic.

But forward to the 1990s when Mum, newly widowed, became a room steward at Erddig. She has been a stalwart volunteer there twice a week ever since. Thus, she has an encyclopaedic knowledge

A display of the various apples grown
on the Erddig Estate

of the place and is always ready to take us there when we are short on anything to do. Even better, she knows she is valued and needed and at 92 that is a rare thing.

Erddig is a splendid place to take any elderly person on a Sunday afternoon. The grounds are perfect for an afternoon stroll and there are rare fruit trees and formal 18th Century Gardens of great historical importance. But you don’t need to have a knowledge of garden history to enjoy them as the NT puts on special days such as Teddy Bears Picnics, Christmas Fairs, walks and markets.

The first weekend in October is reserved for the Apple Festival, so for once, the suggestion for our ‘Nice Under Glass’ trip came from Mum and so we made our way along the long country lanes to get to the house which is just 2.5 miles the town centre. The band played and the unseasonable sun shone as people sat in deck chairs and queued for tea. The smell of the apples belied the sunshine with the promise of the Autumn to come.

As I looked up at Erddig's great façade I reflected how my feelings for the place have changed. As a child its very name gave me nightmares, but now thanks to the stories of a happy and wonderful place that my Mum regales us with every week and the knowledge that it has given her a reason to live…. well, I have real reason to be grateful to it and I expect the many thousands of visitors would agree for reasons of their own.

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