Walking into Dobbies is always a slightly disconcerting experience and a vivid assault on the senses. Today at lunchtime it appeared that Christmas had collided with Halloween in some Tim Burton type of nightmare where great whiffs of mulled wine and pine cones filled the artificial air as cane basketwork Bambis dined on mistletoe from shiny witch's cauldrons. Fake plastic trees, Santa in all his divine forms, pumpkins and the Baby Jesus also inhabit this tacky lifestyle themed world, sound tracked by Band-Aid, some out of time shopping muzak and the clink of nervous teaspoons. Of course despite all that I like Dobbies because I'm usually the youngest person there and (apart from my daughter) today was no exception. I quite enjoyed my sandwich and tasty soup whist surrounded by a great grey mass of creeping, sipping and staring old people grazing like slow motion wildebeests. The shape of things to come for me you may well say.
Two things stuck out for me in this car crash of a shop; the cat on the mag that looks like our cat Mr Clint (never mind the bizarre magazine itself) and a wholly distasteful aquarium model - a downed and drowned Huey helicopter. I can't imagine anybody who works off shore in the North Sea having that one in their lounge along with their silver guppies and 62" flat screen. Maybe it's just for armchair fish loving fans of LOST or Apocalypse Now. There's also a nice human skull you can let your goldfish play in, perhaps it's better than having a real one in the back of the fridge.
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