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Why is it that whenever I'm in London I can't help but go into this store yet when I go into this store I always end up spending shedloads of money on plushes? It's like some sort of Syren call ushering me into the stuffed toy department only to get me to drown in a world of plush. I was good today however and restricted myself to just a few purchases - largely because my room is now not big enough to accommodate them all - but that didn't stop the temptation of me wanting to buy half the damn department.
However the kind staff member in the shop tempted me further with talk of a Hamley's Reward Card. She made it sound so good that I just had to sign up for it so now at least I get one point for every £1 I spend. I don't know what points mean but I feel another plushy spree is on the cards as I can splash the store with savings (before being immersed in a polyester mountain bigger than the EU butter mountain for 1993-2006 inclusive).
On a similar note why can I not go into a book shop without making a beeline for the Picture Books section? I did this in Selfridges this afternoon and ended up buying two - Wolves by Emily Gravitt and Howling at the Moon by Michael Catchpool and Jill Newton. The former is the reason I can assimilate being a wolf with being a vegetarian whilst the latter is a charming tale about a wolf who is howling at the moon. Everyfur else in the forest tells their young that the reason the wolf is howling is because he is a mean angry grumpy wolf but one mouse goes exploring and meets the wolf and discovers that he is howling because he is lonely and has no one to play with. The mouse then becomes friends with the wolf. It really is a charming tale. I suggest you read it.
However the kind staff member in the shop tempted me further with talk of a Hamley's Reward Card. She made it sound so good that I just had to sign up for it so now at least I get one point for every £1 I spend. I don't know what points mean but I feel another plushy spree is on the cards as I can splash the store with savings (before being immersed in a polyester mountain bigger than the EU butter mountain for 1993-2006 inclusive).
On a similar note why can I not go into a book shop without making a beeline for the Picture Books section? I did this in Selfridges this afternoon and ended up buying two - Wolves by Emily Gravitt and Howling at the Moon by Michael Catchpool and Jill Newton. The former is the reason I can assimilate being a wolf with being a vegetarian whilst the latter is a charming tale about a wolf who is howling at the moon. Everyfur else in the forest tells their young that the reason the wolf is howling is because he is a mean angry grumpy wolf but one mouse goes exploring and meets the wolf and discovers that he is howling because he is lonely and has no one to play with. The mouse then becomes friends with the wolf. It really is a charming tale. I suggest you read it.
