I say tomato - you say tomayto, you say children - I say feet
This will be the last time I put up one of those really lame two nations separated by a common language stunts I promise, but I'm surely allowed one and this one really foxed me.
It is - as Jules said to Vincent - the little differences that you notice, and with three children under eight having no supplies of Calpol (now officially a threat to national security) is something which needs to be rectified (to the childless and, apparently, Americans, Calpol is a paracetamol suspension used in prodigous quantities by the parents of pre-school age children to treat all ailments up to and including bubonic plague). Bowel threateningly tedious perusal of every shelf in just about every local Bartell Drug finally revealed some liquid ibuprofen which I bought in a spirit of "oh that'll do" before my brain exploded through the sheer boredom of it. But the brand label "Pedicare" gave me pause. How, I wondered, are you supposed to apply this to your feet?
More generally, drugstores are the most deliriously odd idea. What sort of business model teams up a tiny little pharmacy with a stationers and a coffee grindery - and how did they ever get investment? Can you go imagine asking for a bankloan to set up a store selling drugs, and stationery, oh and baby strollers. Oh and why we're at it we'll have an espresso bar and be a wholesaler for really unattractive clothing. You'd be out on your ear inside a minute. All the more reason why they are such charming places - a sort of humdrum heritage which is rather reassuring - and presumably why they will all disappear in the next ten years as we relentlessly merge and rationalise our merry way towards uniformity.
As any fule kno, the only way to be allowed to get away with palpably insane business plans now is to be a privatised public service - hence Railtrack deciding their core business was the provision of cappucino bars throughout the south of England and the expected imminent merger between McKinsey's and the UK Civil Service. A little local shop which sells just about everything you might need (admittedly it's probably hidden away in some ridiculous place and I won't be able to work out what it's called but still) where's the profit in that?
It is - as Jules said to Vincent - the little differences that you notice, and with three children under eight having no supplies of Calpol (now officially a threat to national security) is something which needs to be rectified (to the childless and, apparently, Americans, Calpol is a paracetamol suspension used in prodigous quantities by the parents of pre-school age children to treat all ailments up to and including bubonic plague). Bowel threateningly tedious perusal of every shelf in just about every local Bartell Drug finally revealed some liquid ibuprofen which I bought in a spirit of "oh that'll do" before my brain exploded through the sheer boredom of it. But the brand label "Pedicare" gave me pause. How, I wondered, are you supposed to apply this to your feet?
More generally, drugstores are the most deliriously odd idea. What sort of business model teams up a tiny little pharmacy with a stationers and a coffee grindery - and how did they ever get investment? Can you go imagine asking for a bankloan to set up a store selling drugs, and stationery, oh and baby strollers. Oh and why we're at it we'll have an espresso bar and be a wholesaler for really unattractive clothing. You'd be out on your ear inside a minute. All the more reason why they are such charming places - a sort of humdrum heritage which is rather reassuring - and presumably why they will all disappear in the next ten years as we relentlessly merge and rationalise our merry way towards uniformity.
As any fule kno, the only way to be allowed to get away with palpably insane business plans now is to be a privatised public service - hence Railtrack deciding their core business was the provision of cappucino bars throughout the south of England and the expected imminent merger between McKinsey's and the UK Civil Service. A little local shop which sells just about everything you might need (admittedly it's probably hidden away in some ridiculous place and I won't be able to work out what it's called but still) where's the profit in that?
posted by Exiled in mainstream at
10:41 PM
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