Exeter 24th August 2011 9:00pm, @Carluccio's

I won't lie about the weather. It ain't good. I know, I've already started another entry with a reference to the weather but since I'm in England I find it quite an appropriate subject to write about. In fact, I would like to point out another particularity about the British weather (or possibly HM Weather, since everything somehow seems to belong to Her). With a certain frequency a very peculiar phenomenon can be observed. I didn't have it on the hike from Exmouth to Sidmouth - as you can see from the photos (oh, they turned out beautiful!) - but I witnessed this meteorological feature in Teignmouth. It starts to rain, only lightly, and as it is actually rather nice and warm you look up in astonishment to find no clouds in the sky. Where is that rain coming from?? The English don't mind; they still go to the beach. "At least there's sun", they might say.

I do confess: I actually went shopping. However, this time I made for shops I didn't usually frequent when in England: Topman and Primark. Topman, to start off with, is a perfectly good place to buy clothes - if you are part of an Indie rockband. I am not, hence no Topman for me. And then there's Primark. Primark is the place where you can get a years' supply of clothes for the amount of money other people spend on 1 polo-shirt. I've only been to Primark once, in London, where I saw teenage girls buying 3-for-2 saver-pack leopard print knickers for $2 (I only saw this because the word 'order' does not exist in Primark-vocabulary; knickers are next to men's neckties are next to mackintoshs). I bought a t-shirt and a polo, all for 6 pounds. What's great about Primark is that there are no shop assistants asking "Can I help you, Sir?". That's one thing that genuinely annoys me about going shopping. "Can I help you?" - "No, thanks, I'm an adult human being. I know how to shop for clothes and I do not require any instructions whatsoever." That'd be my answer. These shop assistants are basically only serving one purpose: People can go up to them and ask "Could you tell me where the lingerie is?" Duh, look on a floor-plan, you idiot! So, no shop assistants, only cheap clothes. It's not such a bad place after all...

As you can see from the headline, I'm sitting at Carluccio's eating pasta. What's bothering me right now: I don't know whether the waiter is indeed Italian failing to speak English properly, or whether he is (what I suspect) not Italian but trying to fake an Italian accent. In either case, he must try harder!

Keep walking...

johnniewalker