What's For Christmas Now?...

By the April of 2016 there had been more than enough hints that the year needed writing off and starting again. We'd lost Bowie, Wogan, Wood, and Prince. Brexit had split the country into ideologically opposed camps, and T***p and F****e were aberrations with too much screen time. It couldn't get any worse. 

Hahahahahahahahaha *Rolls around on the floor, laughing hysterically before convulsing into loud sobs* How innocent we were! How little we knew! What a rose-tinted time to be alive! Fast-forward four years and three months, and here we are. Those halcyon days of Obama's final months along with Cameron's dull mediocrity, would be a soothing balm by today's standards. So far this year we've witnessed government lies-turned-into-policy, we've experienced a global pandemic that still has us in its grip, and now the latest bombshell has dropped. Just when you think that 2020 can't plummet any more depths, it was announced last week that Argos catalogues would no longer be printed.

 

I know. Take a moment. Acknowledge the pain. And - even though I'm being semi-facetious and a little bit whimsical - understand that I'm not. When everything has changed, when our lives have adapted in ways we never imagined, when we're clinging to any semblance of routine and familiarity, hearing that Argos catalogues have gone, is harder to shake than you'd imagine. 

It's probably a generational thing. My mum remembers being stopped for market research in Liverpool years ago, and being asked about high street shops. The only one she hadn't heard of was Argos. It can't have been too long before she had, though. By the mid-eighties, not a Christmas went by without a hefty percentage of the family gifts entering our lives from a descending conveyor belt. It's quite the ta-da moment for any self-respecting purchase. Having no money of my own, it was always a thrill to walk past the doorway of the Argos and take a catalogue. They were free! No one would expect payment. It was a scrap of independence that I badly craved. (At the age of 8, or whatever I was at the time.) As a teenager, with some cash of my own, I worked my way through the jewellery section and regularly bought from their selection of silver rings. (A look I continue with today, although Elizabeth Duke is no longer the source of my bling.) It's been written many times since last week, but the joy of circling the Argos catalogue when compiling a birthday wishlist, made people's childhood. Amazon might have taken over as the provider of any product you could ever want, but there's zero fun in WhatsApping a link to a family member. It's much more pleasurable to circle a longlist of items, narrow it down to a shortlist, flick through the pages as you weigh up which item would bring you the most joy, and then settle on the final choice. Those are life skills right there.

I get that the Internet has made purchasing goods more convenient. Of course it has. And all those trees that would have sourced future years of catalogues, will now be left to grow and help up breathe. And it's not like the shops are going anywhere. The products are still available. We can't moan too much. But there's something comforting about the Argos catalogue. Like new pyjamas, and a milky drink at bedtime, it's fully of cosy childhood memories. Even if I rarely had new pyjamas, and there were no drinks at bed time in case I wet myself, it's the idea of the memory, rather than the memory itself. It's the story we tell ourselves to make us feel better. Right now it's the Argos catalogue. In years to come it will be 'Remember the family zoom calls that were so much fun. Happy memories.' This will directly contradict the worry and angst that existed with them, when illness, financial worries, and doom-laded news bulletins, filled every day. We'll only remember the good stuff. And feeling sad at losing the Argos catalogue is only remembering the good stuff. What is forgotten is that most circled items remained at the top of the conveyor belt. The catalogue contained far more things you didn't own, than things you did. Looking through the catalogue was a lesson in delayed gratification at best. I'm sure it was all very character-building. 

LOLZZZZZZ

Since the announcement, the Internet - the very source of its demise - has eulogised the Argos catalogue many times. Bill Bailey, who coined the phrase 'the laminated book of dreams' proudly shared a photo of his own personalised catalogue. Many people tweeted along the lines of, 'Is it bad that I am so bothered by this?' It seems when such horrors have befallen the planet this year, feeling a pang of sadness at the loss of something outdated, causes guilt. But guilt is pointless. People are allowed to feel sadness at a change in society. It's perfectly acceptable. It's also no great leap to suggest that our sadness and anger at the way 2020 has shaped up, may also affect our views of a high street catalogue. I don't want to come over Sigmund Freud, no really I don't. But that may be the crux of the matter. For now, let's wipe away our tears and remember with fondness, all the tat we once circled. The pocket translator. The ab cruncher. The suitcase. The candlesticks. The...

Here's a peek behind the wizard's curtain for you. About ten minutes ago, I sent out a message to the family WhatsApp group. 

I thought I should use real examples from everyone instead of making up a bunch of products. Well. The replies are still coming in. Everyone's got involved. My brother remembers his first leather football. He also remembers buying everyone presents for the first time when he was 13 (paper round!) and choosing cutlery on a carousel for my mum. My sister got a Polly Pocket Dreamworld, which she has just messaged along with a screenshot of the thing. My brother - same one with the football and the cutlery - remembers picking up his 12th birthday present (a data bank?) and then going to Burger King for lunch. The phone is still pinging with replies and memories. I, or rather Argos, have hit nostalgia gold. But enough of this aside. Back to the paragraph.

...football. The cutlery carousel. The Polly Pocket Dreamworld. The bathroom scales. The coffee table. The bed. The bedding. The tetrus game. The alarm clock. The tool master. The Micro machines. The rev-up plastic motorbike. The bounce-back goal game. The TV stand. The walkie talkies. I could go on forever.

Polly Pocket. How little we knew you.

So now we're all nicely reflective here's a treat to leave you with. I know it's not the same as the laminated version, but it's all we have now. Click this link to look through the Argos catalogue of your choice. Scroll through the memories. Enjoy the flashbacks to long gone times. Wallow. And if you're wearing new pyjamas and drinking a mug of cocoa, you really will be living the eighties consumerist's dream.

Have a lovely week, folks.