Today I have been to HELL. Although most people like to call it ‘Coventry’. My mission today was to buy a new pair of running trainers, with the Nike technology chip in the sole. So already I’m limited down to a small selection. I drove to Coventry with a printed off direction sheet taped to the steering wheel. I’m pretty chuffed when I finally see signposts for the city centre – and I haven’t got lost once! I turn off into a retail park where I can see a huge JJB Sports store. It looks like a huge Bicester Village.
I arrive in the retail park stressed, after having to go round the ring-road twice, searching for signs, in a car with a VERY flat tyre and low petrol gauge and needing to park. I drive into the first car park I see, not realising that the lifting barrier slowly dropping down behind my car as I drive in is sealing a fate of desperation and tears.
Completely oblivious to the fact that I've just parked in the Station Car Park - the only car park there where you have to pay to get out, I park and head to the sport shop. After numerous other searches for Nike+ trainers, I already know that I don't have a chance of finding a women's trainer in my size. I get straight to the point with a sales assistant, and we make our way to the men's shoes.
Well, I have to say the men's shoes are a lot brighter, bulkier, and a 'LOOK AT ME I'M RUNNING' kind of shoe! Not petite and pink like the lady's. I try on a few shoes, although as they are made for men, the toe area is a lot wider than preferred. When I ask for directions for their other store in Coventry, she asks: 'do you know Parsons street?' Erm, no. 'Do you know the ring road?' Errr, nope. Do you know how to get to the Ricoh Arena?' Nope. I'M NEW. There is a nice pair there - top of the range, most expensive - but I decided to hunt for the next store to see if they have any other designs. I get back to the car, attempt to drive out and: £8.00. Sorry, WHAT?? £8.00. I suddenly see a sign, more visible to those coming out than going in, and realise I have to pay EIGHT POUNDS to get out of this car park. I'm trapped. I drive round this prison cell searching for an exit or even a pay machine. I find a sign telling me I have to pay at the station. I don't know where the station is! I don't NEED the station! I've been here for 8 MINUTES and I owe 8 POUNDS! One Topshop tank top. A trip to the cinema. 8 McDonald's burgers. A pair of dolly shoes. A bangle from Accessorize. 0.013% of a second pair of Louboutins. Unbelieveable. I park the car. I make a teary phonecall to my Dad. Then a huge burst of tears and 'WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME??'s in my car. I have a flat tyre. My petrol gauge is saying 'Empty'. I'm stuck in a car park, and I'm off to France tomorrow. I feel so stressed!
Ok, so if I'm paying for this damn parking, then I'm going to make use of it, and not pay £8 for 8 blasted minutes. I don't even get paid that much in an hour!!! Daylight robbery! I see various people with luggage cases heading in one direction, so wipe my mascara tears, apply compact pressed face power, and get out of the car.
Eight pounds down and still no trainers, I head into town, getting very lost in all the subways under the Coventry ring road into the town centre. I finally make it, to find the grotty, dirty and bird-pooped city centre. It looks like a bunch of grey shops, with a roof plonked over the whole lot. It's hardly a shopping mall though - there's more shops outside! I wonder round, aimlessly and completely lost. I find a HSBC bank, but as there is no counter, people are gathered round a small side computer with one helpless assistant, all demanding for help. I am completely mystified and appalled to hear that they don't take coins at the bank. AT A BANK! I feel like I've just been told that Edward Cullen is just a fictional character! She launches off in a huge list of directions to their other branch, but all I hear is 'Marks and Spencer's' and 'cake shop'. I walk round town again, not sure if I'm walking in circles or if this really is the sixth Greggs I've seen.
I eventually find JJB Sports #2. I head upstairs, find a shop assistant and explain the problem of footwear. Rather shockingly, of the four pairs of shoes I select to try (men's shoes of course), the guy comes back with a sorry look on his face and the bad news that they don't have my size. It's a size 9! It's not difficult!! I'm sure Paris Hilton doesn't have this problem when it comes to buying shoes for her size 9/ US 11 feet! The guy calls up their third store to check stock, and they have a very poor selection as well. I decide to buy the shoes I tried on at JJB Sports #1. I wander back through town, searching for a Curry's, a Nero's and a HSBC. I find out Coventry doesn't have a Curry's electrical store, and I never actually did find the second HSBC.
During my walkabouts, I suddenly spot a large flashing sign (actually FLASHING) on a cart, reading 'mobile unlocking'. Ooh goody! I saddle up to the cart and the lady says she can do it for £10. Anything just to have my beloved BlackBerry! I over-protectively interrogate her, asking if it'll work with a French SIM card, as well as my English, if it'll change anything/ break it etc. She looks at me like I'm crazy and reassures me it'll be 'completely normal'. I feel like I'm having an operation or something. ('Only a small jab. You won't feel a thing!') So I cautiously pass it over, and suddenly she gives me a raffle ticket and tells me to come back in 10 minutes. 10 minutes?? I cannot be without my phone for 10 seconds!! I would have thought differently had I known she was going to have it without me being there! 10 minutes! And a raffle ticket is hardly a deposit! A 10 minute head-start?? I feel sick. I sit on a bench, waiting, trying to work out what I can do to fill the time. Each time I think of something - texting Lucy, messaging Maria, searching for a coventry map on Google, calculating miles, deleting old photos - I suddenly realise I need my phone to do that. I didn't think I used it that much! But now my world seems so empty and incomplete without my Blackberry.
I'm relieved to find that she hasn't taken off with my phone when I return, and it all looks normal. I guess I'll have to wait until I arrive in France to actually see if that £10 has done anything.
I ask a very friendly and well-spoken dustbin man (be nice to them! They'll know the cities more than anyone else!) for directions back to the station, and despite a simple straight-forward list of instructions, I still manage to get hopelessly lost in the underground walkways of the ring road. I finally get back to retail park, get the trainers and get to my car. My tyre's still flat and my petrol gauge hasn't miraculously gone up, but I'm out of the city and heading home. I feel ELATED. :)
I don't manage to find a petrol station on the way to the A46, and although I know it's highly dangerous, highly illegal and highly stupid, I head onto the dual carriage way in the direction of HOME. My fingers remain crossed at the steering wheel the whole time, and I'm begging my car to make it home. I'm there thanking 'her' for the drives, how I've played nice music, kept her clean, hoovered her this week, paid for petrol... I have to make it. I have to. I don't have a clue what to do it I break down. I make it. More elation!
I arrive in the retail park stressed, after having to go round the ring-road twice, searching for signs, in a car with a VERY flat tyre and low petrol gauge and needing to park. I drive into the first car park I see, not realising that the lifting barrier slowly dropping down behind my car as I drive in is sealing a fate of desperation and tears.
Completely oblivious to the fact that I've just parked in the Station Car Park - the only car park there where you have to pay to get out, I park and head to the sport shop. After numerous other searches for Nike+ trainers, I already know that I don't have a chance of finding a women's trainer in my size. I get straight to the point with a sales assistant, and we make our way to the men's shoes.
Well, I have to say the men's shoes are a lot brighter, bulkier, and a 'LOOK AT ME I'M RUNNING' kind of shoe! Not petite and pink like the lady's. I try on a few shoes, although as they are made for men, the toe area is a lot wider than preferred. When I ask for directions for their other store in Coventry, she asks: 'do you know Parsons street?' Erm, no. 'Do you know the ring road?' Errr, nope. Do you know how to get to the Ricoh Arena?' Nope. I'M NEW. There is a nice pair there - top of the range, most expensive - but I decided to hunt for the next store to see if they have any other designs. I get back to the car, attempt to drive out and: £8.00. Sorry, WHAT?? £8.00. I suddenly see a sign, more visible to those coming out than going in, and realise I have to pay EIGHT POUNDS to get out of this car park. I'm trapped. I drive round this prison cell searching for an exit or even a pay machine. I find a sign telling me I have to pay at the station. I don't know where the station is! I don't NEED the station! I've been here for 8 MINUTES and I owe 8 POUNDS! One Topshop tank top. A trip to the cinema. 8 McDonald's burgers. A pair of dolly shoes. A bangle from Accessorize. 0.013% of a second pair of Louboutins. Unbelieveable. I park the car. I make a teary phonecall to my Dad. Then a huge burst of tears and 'WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME??'s in my car. I have a flat tyre. My petrol gauge is saying 'Empty'. I'm stuck in a car park, and I'm off to France tomorrow. I feel so stressed!
Ok, so if I'm paying for this damn parking, then I'm going to make use of it, and not pay £8 for 8 blasted minutes. I don't even get paid that much in an hour!!! Daylight robbery! I see various people with luggage cases heading in one direction, so wipe my mascara tears, apply compact pressed face power, and get out of the car.
Eight pounds down and still no trainers, I head into town, getting very lost in all the subways under the Coventry ring road into the town centre. I finally make it, to find the grotty, dirty and bird-pooped city centre. It looks like a bunch of grey shops, with a roof plonked over the whole lot. It's hardly a shopping mall though - there's more shops outside! I wonder round, aimlessly and completely lost. I find a HSBC bank, but as there is no counter, people are gathered round a small side computer with one helpless assistant, all demanding for help. I am completely mystified and appalled to hear that they don't take coins at the bank. AT A BANK! I feel like I've just been told that Edward Cullen is just a fictional character! She launches off in a huge list of directions to their other branch, but all I hear is 'Marks and Spencer's' and 'cake shop'. I walk round town again, not sure if I'm walking in circles or if this really is the sixth Greggs I've seen.
I eventually find JJB Sports #2. I head upstairs, find a shop assistant and explain the problem of footwear. Rather shockingly, of the four pairs of shoes I select to try (men's shoes of course), the guy comes back with a sorry look on his face and the bad news that they don't have my size. It's a size 9! It's not difficult!! I'm sure Paris Hilton doesn't have this problem when it comes to buying shoes for her size 9/ US 11 feet! The guy calls up their third store to check stock, and they have a very poor selection as well. I decide to buy the shoes I tried on at JJB Sports #1. I wander back through town, searching for a Curry's, a Nero's and a HSBC. I find out Coventry doesn't have a Curry's electrical store, and I never actually did find the second HSBC.
During my walkabouts, I suddenly spot a large flashing sign (actually FLASHING) on a cart, reading 'mobile unlocking'. Ooh goody! I saddle up to the cart and the lady says she can do it for £10. Anything just to have my beloved BlackBerry! I over-protectively interrogate her, asking if it'll work with a French SIM card, as well as my English, if it'll change anything/ break it etc. She looks at me like I'm crazy and reassures me it'll be 'completely normal'. I feel like I'm having an operation or something. ('Only a small jab. You won't feel a thing!') So I cautiously pass it over, and suddenly she gives me a raffle ticket and tells me to come back in 10 minutes. 10 minutes?? I cannot be without my phone for 10 seconds!! I would have thought differently had I known she was going to have it without me being there! 10 minutes! And a raffle ticket is hardly a deposit! A 10 minute head-start?? I feel sick. I sit on a bench, waiting, trying to work out what I can do to fill the time. Each time I think of something - texting Lucy, messaging Maria, searching for a coventry map on Google, calculating miles, deleting old photos - I suddenly realise I need my phone to do that. I didn't think I used it that much! But now my world seems so empty and incomplete without my Blackberry.
I'm relieved to find that she hasn't taken off with my phone when I return, and it all looks normal. I guess I'll have to wait until I arrive in France to actually see if that £10 has done anything.
I ask a very friendly and well-spoken dustbin man (be nice to them! They'll know the cities more than anyone else!) for directions back to the station, and despite a simple straight-forward list of instructions, I still manage to get hopelessly lost in the underground walkways of the ring road. I finally get back to retail park, get the trainers and get to my car. My tyre's still flat and my petrol gauge hasn't miraculously gone up, but I'm out of the city and heading home. I feel ELATED. :)
I don't manage to find a petrol station on the way to the A46, and although I know it's highly dangerous, highly illegal and highly stupid, I head onto the dual carriage way in the direction of HOME. My fingers remain crossed at the steering wheel the whole time, and I'm begging my car to make it home. I'm there thanking 'her' for the drives, how I've played nice music, kept her clean, hoovered her this week, paid for petrol... I have to make it. I have to. I don't have a clue what to do it I break down. I make it. More elation!
So that was my morning. I hope you feel stressed just reading it, as it felt like my head was going to pop off from the stress - like in those Looney Tunes cartoons! Eyes popping out on springs and repeatedly hit with a baseball bat by Jerry the Mouse! After checking a mirror however, I am pleased to report that my eyes are still in my head and I'm all in one piece.
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