High Street, Low Season

I’m feeling a little depressed just now. Not because it’s the height of the SAD season, but because I have been reading about the dictatorships of Gaddafi in Libya* and Omar al-Bashir in Sudan**. The needless cruelty inflicted on millions of people by small cliques of kleptocrats is despicable, but the connivance of outside powers that support them to protect their (our?) national “interests” is equally despicable and shameful. I suppose I should count myself fortunate to be living in a democratic state that is relatively free and stable – notwithstanding the calamity of Brexit, the erosion of social democracy by neo-liberalism and the annihilation of personal privacy by Facebook, Google, Amazon et al.

So, I have been lapping up whatever joy is to be found in January. Renowned though it is for being a bucket of misery – the come-down after the party – there are bright spots, not least those cold but sunny days when to be outdoors is to feel invigorated. Then there are the sales. Everyone likes a bargain, though I have learned not to buy stuff just because it is cheap and attractive. It may be an age-related syndrome, but I really don’t need more stuff (no presents, please). I do, however, relish the January restaurant deals. Many a friendship is celebrated over a meal, with the added frisson of a discounted bill. Even the venerable Heaton Moor Jazz Appreciation Society has now re-scheduled its annual lunch, having suffered for many years the indignities of the December hustle over scarce time-slots, expensive seasonal menus and ridiculous paper hats.

But I worry about the High Street. Not all the sales are seasonal: some are actual closing-down clearances. Retailers are suffering as demographics change: older people buy less stuff and younger people buy more. And everyone buys online now. Many high streets are looking derelict, though they say that a transformation is in the offing and a mix of business, residential, leisure and retail will bring them back to life in the end. But it’s a long-term process and, meanwhile, in affluent areas, coffee bars are leading the charge – a situation which benefits consumers by encouraging competition, though superior coffee or lower prices will only sustain a competitive edge so far. There are already lap-top friendly places that provide for informal business meetings and networking: perhaps it won’t be long before the leisure market is targeted and coffee comes with live music, cinema or other performance arts.

As for the shops, there is some hope. There is still an appetite for showrooming and a hands-on approach to selecting purchases. When it comes to clothes, I, for one, prefer to try before I buy. A shirt that look appealing on a model in a photograph often doesn’t flatter its subsequent owner – as I have discovered once too often. Then there are certain technical products that are best approached with a little knowledgeable advice from salespeople. A case in point is the Amazon Echo, an internet-connected, voice-enabled loudspeaker. I know that I don’t need more stuff but, having seen them at the shop, reduced in price, I concocted a case for needing one. It ran thus: it would be useful in the kitchen, where wet, greasy hands are the norm and spectacles are not always to hand when it is necessary to change the station on the fiddly little radio. But how does it work? In the shop, I was given a demonstration.

So, I now have hands-free entertainment and comms in the kitchen and all at a low price – not counting the hidden costs of having donated even more of my personal data to Amazon, Spotify, Google et al. and having colluded – however obliquely – with the unscrupulous forces of capitalism that maintain repressive dictatorships for the sake of strategic alliances.

*Lindsey Hilsum: Sand Storm

**Jamal Mahjoub: A Line in the River