107. 26.04.2012 Peacock

107. 26.04.2012 Peacocks

Ah....peacocks.  The day it was announced that Peacocks was closing, I cried and cried. After that I wept and wept. After that I behaved like a recently bereaved widow in the Middle East.  I walked about screeching and screaming,  beating my chest, breaking down in front of any camera that showed interest, gesturing to the heavens whilst  making that funny noise that sounds like a yodel  but not quite.   In hindsight, I must have looked like a right pillock, but at the time I really was genuinely and truly distressed to the core.  Not that I am a drama queen or anything.
The thought of not being able to drool over  nylon garments or rummage through  off the misshapen peg items of misshapen knitwear or marvel at the two for £10 winter jackets was, to be brutally frank, one of those low points in my life, one that I thought I would never get over.

 Peacock’s  had a lot more going for it apart from having a finger on the pulse of yesterday’s nasty fashions.  Due to the quantity of nylon goods on the racks, Peacocks actually used to produce enough static electricity to light their shops, power the tills and allow the staff to warm up  Pot Noodles in the microwave round the back.  In fact on some days the busier branches of Peacocks were actually feeding electricity back into the National grid. Under the right atmospheric conditions it was also possible to re-charge an i-phone simply by holding it next to the racks of sports wear, something I used to do on a regular basis in the Llandudno branch before receiving a nasty shock when I put my phone in my pocket. Apparently my testicles acted like electrical nodes and could quite easily have fused my manhood. Fused it to the nylon 5 pairs for £2 boxer shorts I was wearing at the time that is.

Anyhow, all was not lost and Peacocks has now been taken over by Edinburgh Woollen Mills, another  mecca of fashion items for the less concerned, short sighted, colour blind and/or clinically confused British public.

Mind you, it wasn’t the first time the demise of a peacock sent me over the edge. When poor Ashley Peacock was crushed to death on that awful December evening when  the tram hit Weatherfield I was the same.  That episode lasted for a week. Well the episode was actually only half an hour with “Tonight but Not with Trevor McDonald again”  in the middle of it.  Dreadful, and such a waste of a talented butcher with a funny voice. I say, such a waste.

Anyhow, this Peacock is one of several that live on the edge of Gwydyr forest. Not sure why they call them peacocks. They don’t actually look like peas. Neither do they look genitalia either. Well not the ones I’ve seen anyhow.