Candle Amnesty
It's my birthday in a few weeks - which makes me a Scorpio. Fear me. Not that I buy any of that horoscope shit; I always say that I've got Scorpio rising in the House of Fraser, and that's as far as my interest in astrology-fu goes.
Anyway, I'm only telling you because, in the past, I've had a party and lots of people have brought me a small gift, which is thoughtful. Last year I got about a hundred little candles: you know the sort - decorative, scented, possibly tied with rafia or possibly just neat. Obviously if someone comes round to your house for dinner and brings a bottle of wine (much preferred) or a candle or a token present that's cute and nice, but when like a hundred people do it at once, it kinda does your head in.
I thought, momentarily of opening a chatchke - yiddish, sort of translates as knick-knack, but is all kinds of useless ephemera - shop, as I had a fair amount of potential stock already. Then I remembered Dizar, a shop in West Hamsptead. How many pointless-crap shops can you have in any one postcode area?
Anyway, this year, I'm having a Little Candle Amnesty. Celebrate, sure, but do me a favour, buy me a book or something. Or nothing, obviously.
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