Home bargins a pivot between two worlds

When HB arrived in Oxford I was suspicious. The garish branding and warehouse style facade didn’t draw me in.

Then one day curiosity overtook me and I poked past the wall of cutprice cereal only to discover the themed section. It was eye popping. A wash of things I didn’t realise I needed or wanted at Easter - a cascade of bonnets, costumes, felt baskets and endless affordable chocolate novelties. A fantastic bit of retail therapy.

(On that first trip I also came away with a toasted sandwich maker impulse buy…)

So when I discovered HB down a back alley in Monmouth I felt a wave of relief, comfort and almost a sense of ‘belonging’. Then I discovered it had its very own parking area in this relatively small market town. My barometer recalibrated and all Monmouth’s independent retail shops paled into obscurity compared to the fix HB has to offer. Whether it’s a bumper pack of crisps, colouring book and scented pencils or large bag of meal worms there is something to cheer everyone up, however grey the day.

Well that was then.

HB seems to have occupied a void in all of our hearts and when Laurie begins to tell me he has to go to HB with his friends, the scales slowly slip from my eyes in this rural idle. He explains they all do it - just hang out in HB - please can he go. I then realise there isn’t anywhere else large and glittering to go to. No colosseum, museum, gallery or even shopping mall. HB is the best on offer.

Perhaps if they were wandering about marvelling at its product placement, aisle layout, labelling, as an exercise in understanding human nature I might approve. But they are not they are stocking up on quantities of gum, poptasticle e-ladened syrup drinks, gobstoppers, tub of popcorn the size of a beached whale. One of his friends came out with a Peppa pig water pistol that had some merit but Laurie is on the holy grail of hell… toxic waste sweets. That’s what they are called and what they are!

 


Sensitive individuals should not consume. 
And if you are not sensitive it will make you...

It’s now a stark reminder that we can’t pop to the Natural History Museum or spin down the towpath to pizza on Port meadow or even wander to the library via sushi.

Oh dear HB has become a beacon to loss. It turns out plugging holes with cheap treats doesn’t hold back the tide of longing.

 

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