Yesterday I ran around Christmas shopping. I mean that in the most literal sense — I laced up my running shoes and ran three miles to Oxford Street, then on to Regent Street and Piccadilly, awkwardly hugging my shopping bags as I weaved in and out of crowds of pedestrians, all of whom gave me rightful odd looks for being the crazy person who dared to run on what have to be three of London’s most congested sidewalks (what they call “pavement.”) I like to think it was practice for my big race on Thanksgiving where I may have to weave around walkers and fellow runners. My run to the first store was purely exercise and training, but running between stores was more out of necessity because I was freezing. In fact, I stopped at Lillywhites to buy some thermal base layer shirts because it’s getting a little too cold to just layer on another T-shirt, and it’s not exactly easy to move when you look like this:
Since I often head back to the US for Thanksgiving and stay through Christmas, I don’t have any problem with London getting into the Christmas spirit in early November. (There’s no Thanksgiving to get in the way of Christmas magic!) The other day my friend asked me if I’ve been taking any photos lately, and it dawned on me — that used to be what I enjoyed and blogged about before my life was consumed by looking for a flat, moving, unpacking, and lately, working. So last Tuesday, the first day it wasn’t raining, my camera and I went down to Oxford Street to do a little shopping and take in the lights.
I came out of a store around 4:30 pm and was surprised that the lights were not on yet. Then as I made my way to Selfridge’s, I noticed more and more people gathering on the sidewalks and the street had been blocked off. When I came out of Selfridge’s, I could barely move. I crossed the street to try to avoid the crowds, but they absorbed me. We moved like a giant amoeba as police officers guided us around the block, denying us access to the stage in front of Selfridges because of the crowds. Thanks to the rubberneckers and inquisitive onlookers, we moved slower than a snail’s pace, but I learned that that night — the night I chose to leisurely walk around and take photos and shop — was in fact the night that Jessie J was to perform and officially switch on the Oxford Street lights. I just wanted to get to the other end of the street! Eventually the bottleneck broke and I was free to take back roads to Regent Street, where the lights had been turned on days earlier.
The lights were similar, if not the same, as last year, showcasing the 12 Days of Christmas.
I like the above photo because you get the effect of almost getting run over by a double decker bus, which happens all too often.
They also have some quirky shops, like the place that sells this panda getup that even I wouldn’t wear:
And then my hands got too cold so I took the bus home. From the window of the bus I saw the hordes of people trying to get into the Oxford Circus Tube Station after the performance was over — it had to have been at least 20 people thick on all sides, just trying to get INTO the station, never mind onto a train. The Evening Standard said queues were up to 30 minutes! Score one for the bus wankers!