I finished a large part of my Christmas shopping today. Unfortunately, that involved making a trip into Bath city centre. Due to oversleeping and getting up late, and town being incredibly busy, parking spaces were very limited. As a result, we parked far, far away from the shops.

We went in more shops than I can remember. One being a one of those calendar shops that seem to popup in every town and city at this time of year. As well as buying a Family Guy calendar, for my desk at work and a Leeds United diary, to keep my life in order, I had some mischief – gathering a handful of Leeds United calendars, I placed them on top of all the Manchester United ones. Yes, I know this is extremely immature, but it is rather funny, at least to me. Claire didn’t see the funny side, telling me off, before ordering me to put the calendars back in their rightful place.

In the hunt for some books, we went into Waterstones and WHSmiths. I pointed out the books to Claire that I did NOT want for Christmas – primarily, Alex Ferguson’s autobiography, Roy Keane’s latest book and some rubbish from Ryan Giggs, where he no doubts gloats about his career, while totally avoiding any mention of his sister-in-law.

Primark was next up on the shopping trip. Amongst all our fellow bargain hunters, was a woman with a very young child in a pushchair. Mummy was clearly going Christmas shopping with her son and asked him what boxer shorts Daddy may like. When the boy predictably didn’t offer much in regards to suggestion, she got very annoyed.

After lots more shopping, we went to Cosy Club for some lunch. Tapas was eaten and as I had behaved myself since the calendar incident, I was allowed to treat myself to some sorbet and an espresso coffee.

The most important purchase of the day was then made – my wedding suit! It is less than seven months until Claire and I marry. She already has her dress, so it was about time I bought my outfit. Traditionally the fiancé should avoid his wife-to-be’s dress, which I have managed to do. It is said to be unlucky if he does see it pre-wedding. We are not aware that such a superstition applies to the lady seeing the man’s suit. However, Claire will not be seeing mine until the big day. That, unfortunately, means I can’t post it on here, although I’ll give you a sneak peak of it zoomed in very high…

The remaining visits were to Iceland. I had seen an advert on television for crocodile burgers and was keen to try them. I think it’s a little unfair to kill and eat a chicken, as it doesn’t have much of a chance against me in a fight. I may not be Hulk Hogan, but I think I could wrestle a chicken and win. A crocodile, however, is different. It would eat me. Eating an animal that when alive would like to eat me would be rather satisfying. Sadly, Iceland didn’t have any of the burgers, so it’ll be sausage and chips for me from now on.

Finally, it was off to Krispy Kreme. No sooner had we entered the shop renowned for selling delicious doughnuts, we left. There was a big queue and the selection was poor. Some children were messing about outside. One of them nearly ran straight into me. Had I owned and been wearing an old man, Victor Meldrew-style flat cap, I would have promptly removed it and shook it at the minor, while yelling something along the lines of “what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, you little bugger!”.

Shortly after that near-miss, I saw one of the child’s friends crying. Apparently he had hurt himself. From what I heard, in between the screams and cries, his rather rotund friend or brother, he referred to simply as ‘Fatty’, had thrown a conker at him. I don’t know what the repercussions were for Fatty, or if any of the other Bash Street Kids got into trouble. Without wanting to sound mean, I almost smiled at the mishap, as the conkered child had been acting a prat earlier. Let’s face it, someone was going to end up crying with all that pissing about, so I’m glad it was him and not someone else that got caught in their path of destruction.

Shopping over, we had the huge walk from the bottom of town, all the way to the car – near Victoria Park. It felt like we were climbing a mountain. By the time we had reached the Theatre Royal, I hit the metaphorical brick wall. I thought I was going to die, and I’m never one to exaggerate (OK, I am). I didn’t die and despite feeling like I had, we made it back safe and sound to the car. I am now home writing this blog, which you have hopefully reached the end of, without feeling like dying yourself.